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AUTHOR: 


SOPHOCLES 


TITLE: 


SOPHOCLES ,  TR.  BY 

THOMAS  FRANCKLIN 


PLACE: 


LONDON 

DA  TE : 

1832 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
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BIBLIOGRAPHIC  MICROFORM  TARGET 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


88SJ 
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Works.     Eng.  ft:-ancklin. 


Sophocles* 

Sophocles,  tr.  by  Thomas  Francklin»» 
Valpy,  1832. 

xi,  363  p«       16  cm* 


London, 


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*  on  the  date  indicated  below,  or  at  t' 
'*^^*^^lyi  /'r       ^  "''^'^  after  the  date  of  borr 


SOPHOCLES. 


SOPH, 


I 


SOPHOCLES 


I  »  \ 


.• 


TRANSLATE O    BY 


THOMAS   FRANCKLIN,   D.    D. 


GJIEKK    PROFESSOR    IN    THE    UNIVERSITY    OF    CAMBRIDGE. 


I 


^ONDON: 
PRINTED   BY   A.   J.  VALPY,   M.   A. 

AND    SOLD    BY    ALL    BOOKSELLERS. 

1832. 


M 


» 


CONTENTS. 


Biographical  Sketch  of  Sophocles 


THE  TRAGEDIES. 


V^Ajax 

v^Electra 
^      Philoctetes 
!?  /Antigone    . 

^  y^RACHINI^  . 

Mi  v^CEdipus  Tyrannus 
^•(Edipus  Coloneus 


391010 


PAGE 

vii 


1 

51 
103 
155 
201 
247 
305 


li? 


'  This  translation  is  remarkably  close  and  concise,  and  the 
language  is  easy  and  natural,  and  suited  to  the  sentiments. 
In  a  word,  the  English  poet  seems  to  have  preserved  that 
elegance  and  simplicity,  for  which  the  Grecian  is  so  deser- 
vedly admired.' — Monthly  Riview. 


t 


BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 


OF 


SOPHOCLES, 


This  excellent  tragic  writer  was  born  at  Colone,  a 
village  in  Attica,  about  497  years  before  Christ. 
Although  his  father  Sophilus  is  said  to  have  exer- 
cised the  humble  occupation  of  a  blacksmith,  he 
did  not  neglect  the  education  of  his  son,  who, 
while  he  gave  early  indications  of  extraordinary 
genius,  and  a  remarkable  aptitude  for  the  higher 
branches  of  literature,  at  the  same  time  cultivated 
the  accomplishments  of  music  and  dancing,  in 
both  of  which  arts  he  failed  not  to  distinguish  him- 
self, particularly  after  the  battle  of  Salamis,  when 
he  led  a  chorus  of  youths  round  a  trophy  erected 
in  honor  of  that  victory. 

As  the  profession  of  arms  was,  at  that  period, 
more  honorable,  and  probably  more  advantageous 
than  any  other,  Sophocles  entered  the  army  at  the 


vm 


BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH 


OF  SOPHOCLES. 


IX 


usual  age,  and  had  the  honor  to  serve  under  the 
great  Pericles.  His  valor  and  conduct  were  here 
80  conspicuous,  that  in  a  short  time  he  was  ap- 
pointed to  a  high  military  dignity,  and  in  several 
battles  is  reported  to  have  shared  in  the  supreme 
command  of  the  Athenian  armies  with  his  former 
leader.  His  services  in  the  field  were  rewarded  by 
his  fellow-citizens,  who  raised  him  to  the  high 
office  of  archoii,  the  duties  of  which  he  executed 
with  credit  and  honor. 

The  first  appearance  of  Sophocles  as  a  dramatic 
writer  left  no  room  for  doubting  the  splendor  of 
his  talents.  The  Athenians  had  captured  the 
island  of  Scyros,  and,  in  order  to  celebrate  that 
memorable  event,  a  yearly  contest  for  tragedy  was 
instituted.  Sophocles,  on  this  occasion,  although 
he  was  but  twenty-nine  years  of  age,  obtained  the 
prize  over  many  experienced  competitors,  in  the 
number  of  whom  was  -^schylus,  his  former  friend 
and  preceptor. 

He  was  less  fortunate  in  domestic  life  than  in 
his  public  career.  His  children,  disappointed  in 
their  eager  wishes  for  his  death,  and  solicitous  for 
the  immediate  possession  of  his  fortune,  sum- 
moned him  before  the  judges,  at  a  very  advanced 
age,  representing  him  as  in  a  state  of  dotage,  ^and 


utterly  incapable  of  conducting  his  affairs.  The 
old  man  appeared  in  court  to  repel  this  charge  ; 
and,  producing  the  tragedy  of  (Edipus  Coloneus, 
which  he  had  just  finished,  asked  his  judges  if 
the  author  of  such  a  work  could  be  justly  taxed 
with  insanity.  The  judges,  indignant  at  the  impu- 
tation which  had  been  preferred  against  him,  con- 
firmed  him  in  the  possession  of  his  rights  :  his  un- 
grateful children  were  covered  with  shame  and 
confusion ;  and  all  the  people  who  were  present 
conducted  him  home  in  triumph.  His  death  at 
the  age  of  ninety-one,  406  years  before  the  Chris- 
tian era,  is  said  to  have  been  occasioned  by  ex- 
cessive joy  at    obtaining  a  prize    at  the  Olympic 

games. 

Sophocles  is  supposed  to  have  written  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty    tragedies,   only  seven   of  which 
are  now  remaining  ;    these    were  received   by  his 
contemporaries  with  that  applause  which  they  so 
well    deserved.      It    is  remarked,   that   he    never 
acted  himself  in  any  of  his    plays,  as  ^schylus 
and    Euripides    were  accustomed  to  do,  his  voice 
being  too  weak  and  low  for  the  stage  :   though  he 
was  always  present  at  the  representation,  and  re- 
ceived the  applauses  of  the  audience,  who,  we  are 
told,   seldom  failed  to  signify   their   approbation, 


X  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH 

both  at  his  entering  and  quitting  the  theatre.  He 
was  crowned  twenty  times ;  and  though  he  pro- 
bably sometimes  shared  the  fate  of  his  brother 
poets  by  unjust  censure,  could  never  be  prevailed 
on,  as  his  rivals  were,  to  quit  his  native  country, 
to  which  he  took  every  opportunity  of  showing  his 
sincerest  attachment. 

The  drama  is  indebted  to  this  great'  man  for  the 
introduction  of  a  third  speaker  to  the  dialogue, 
into  which  his  genius  infused  greater  ease  and  ele- 
gance :  to  this  improvement  he  likewise  added  the 
decoration  of  painted  scenery,  and  paid  a  stricter 
attention  to  probability  and  natural  incident.  The 
Athenians  erected  a  sumptuous  monument  to  his 
memory,  on  which  was  engraved  a  swarm  of  bees, 
in  allusion  to  the  name  generally  given  him  on  ac- 
count of  his  verses,  which  are,  indeed,  wonderfully 
soft  and  harmonious. 

So  just  an  estimate  of  the  merits  of  Sophocles  is 
formed  by  the  learned  and  elegant  writer,  whose 
translation  is  here  adopted,  that  we  cannot  better 
conclude  this  brief  sketch  than  in  presenting  it  to 
our  readers. 

'Sophocles.'  says  Dr.  Francklin,  'may  with 
great  truth  be  called  the  prince  of  ancient  dramatic 
poets*,  his   fables,  (at  least  of  all  those  tragedies 


OF    SOPHOCLES. 


XI 


.t'«l 


now  extant,)  are  interesting  and  well  chosen ;  his 
plots  regular  and   well   conducted ;  his  sentiments 
elegant,  noble,  and  sublime  ;  his  incidents  natural ; 
his    diction  simple  ;    his  manners   and   characters 
striking,  equal,  and  unexceptionable  ;   his  choruses 
well  adapted   to  the  subject ;  his  moral  reflections 
pertinent   and   useful;  and  his  numbers,  in   every 
part,    to   the    last  degree    sweet  and    harmonious. 
The  warmth  of  his   imagination   is  so  tempered  by 
the   perfection   of  his   judgment,    that  his    spirit, 
however  animated,  never   wanders  into  licentious- 
ness ;  whilst,  at  the   same  time,  the  fire  of  his  ge- 
nius  seldom  suffers  the  most  uninteresting  parts  of 
his   tragedy   to  sink   into  coldness  and  insipidity. 
His  peculiar  excellence  seems  to  lie  in  the  descrip- 
tive ;  and,   exclusive  of  his  dramatic   powers,  he   is 
certainly  a  greater  poet  than  either  of  his  illustri- 
ous rivals.     Were  1  to  draw  a  similitude  of  him 
from  painting,  I  should  say   that  his  ordonnance 
was  so  just,  his  figures  so  well  grouped  and  con- 
trasted, his  colors   so  glowing  and  natural ;  all  his 
pieces,  in  short,   executed  in  so  bold  and  masterly 
a  style,  as  to  wrest  the  palm  from  every  other  hand, 
and  point  him  out  as  the  Raphael  of  the  ancient 
drama.' 


w 


A     J     A     X. 


DRAMATIS  PERSON.^:. 

Minerva. 

Ulysses. 

Ajax. 

Tecmessa,  wife  of  Ajax. 

Teucer,  brother  to  Ajax. 

Agamemnon, 

Menelaus. 

Messenger. 

Chorus,  composed  of  ancient  men  of  Salamis. 


I 


After  the  death  of  Achilles,  the  Greeks  published  their  in- 
tention of  bestowing  the  arms  of  their  deceased  hero  on  that 
chief  who  had  rendered  the  greatest  services  to  the  com- 
mon cause.    Ajax  and  Ulysses  each  prosecuted  their  claims 
for  this  honor,  which  were  decided  in  favor  of  the  latter  by 
the  casting-vote  of  Menelaus.      Ajax,   frantic  with   disap- 
pomtment,  and  instigated  by  Minerva,  slaughtered  a  whole 
flock  of  sheep,  supposing  them  to  be  the  sons  of  Atreus ; 
and,    after   his    recovery    from    delirium,    stabbed  himself 
through  grief.      His  half-brother,  Teucer  to  whom  he  was 
tenderly  attached,  was  about  to  bestow  on  him   the  usual 
rites  of  sepulture,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  Agamemnon 
and  Menelaus,  who  sternly  insisted  that  the  body  of  Ajax 
should  remain  unburied,  in  revenge  for  their  intended  mur- 
der.    Teucer,    however,    persevered   in   his    pious    design 
and  defied  the  power  of  the  two  princes ;  when  Ulysses,  by 
his  influence,  persuaded  Agamemnon  to  remit  the  penalty 
and  to  suffer  Teucer  to  bury  the  body  of  Ajux  without  far- 
ther molestation. 


r 


ACT   I. 


Scene  a  field  near  the  camp  of  Ajax. 

MINERVA,    ULYSSES. 

iMiN.  Son  of  Laertes,  thy  unwearied  spirit 
lis  ever  watchful  to  surprise  the  foe. 
I  have  observed  thee  wandering  midst  the  tents 
In  search  of  Ajax,  where  his  station  lies, 
At  the  utmost  verge,  measuring  o'er  his  steps 


4  SOPHOCLES. 

But  late  impressed  :  like  Sparta's  hounds  of  scent ; 
Sagacious  dost  thou  trace  him,  nor  in  vain; 
For  know,  the  man  thou  seekst  is  not  far  from  thee  : 
Yonder  he  lies,  with  reeking  brow  and  hands 
Deep-stain'd  with  gore :  cease  then  thy  search,  and 
tell  me  10 

Wherefore  thou  coraest,  that  so  I  may  inform 
Thy  doubting  mind,  and  best  assist  thy  purpose. 

Ulys.  Minerva,  dearest  of  the  immortal  powers  ! 
(For,  though  I  see  thee  not,  that  well-known  voice 
Doth  like  the  Tyrrhene  trump  awake  my  soul.)         15 
Right  hast  thou  said,  I  come  to  search  my  foe, 
Shield-bearing  Ajax  ;  him  alone  I  seek  : 
V^    A  deed  of  horror  hath  he  done  this  night. 
If  it  be  he  ;  for  yet  we  are  to  know 
The  certain  proof,  and  therefore  came  1  here  20 

A  willing  messenger  :  the  cattle  all. 
Our  flocks  and  herds,  are,  with  their  shepherds,  slain  ! 
To  Ajax  every  tongue  imputes  the  crime  : 
One  of  our  spies,  who  saw  him  on  the  plain, 
His  sword  still  reeking  with  fresh  blood,  conflrra'd 

it: 
Instant  I  fled  to  search  him,  and  sometimes  26 

I  trace  his  footsteps,  which  again  I  lose 
I  know  not  how.     In  happy  hour  thou  comest 
To  aid  me,  goddess  ;  thy  protecting  hand 
Hath  ruled  me  ever,  and  to  thee  I  trust  30 

My  future  fate. 

MiN.  I  know  it  well,  Ulysses, 

And  therefore  came  to  guard  and  to  assist  thee, 
Propitious  to  thy  purpose. 

Ulys.  Do  I  right. 

My  much-loved  mistress  ? 

MiN.  Doubtless  ;  his  foul  deed 

6  The  dogs  of  Sparta  were  remarkable  for  their  swiftness 
and  quick  scent. 


I 


AJAX. — ACT   1.  5 

Doth  well  deserve  it. 

Ulys.  What  could  prompt  his  hand  35 

To  such  a  desperate  act  ? 

MiN.  Achilles'  arms ; 

His  rage  for  loss  of  them. 

Ulys.  But  wherefore  thus 

Destroy  the  flock  ? 

MiN.  'Twas  in  your  blood  he  thought 

His  hands  were  stain'd. 

Ulys.  Against  the  Grecians  then 

Was  all  his  wrath  ? 

MiN.  And  fatal  had  it  proved  40 

To  them,  if  I  had  not  prevented  it. 

Ulys.     What-daring  insolence  could  move  his  soul 
To  such  a  deed  ? 

MiN.  Alone  by  night  he  wander'd 

In  secret  to  attack  you. 

Ulys.  Did  he  come 

Close  to  our  tents  ? 

MiN.  Even  to  the  double  portal,        45 

Where  rest  your  chiefs. 

Ulys.  What  power  could  then  withhold 

His  maddening  hand  ? 

Mix.  I  purposely  deceived 

His  sight,  and  saved  him  from  the  guilty  joy, 
Turning  his  rage  against  the  mingled  flocks, 
Your  gather'd  spoil :  on  these  with  violence  50 

He  rush'd,  and  slaughter^  many ;  now  he  thought 
That  he  had  slain  the  Atridae,  now  believed 
Some  other  chiefs  had  perish'd  by  his  hand. 
I  saw  his  madness  and  still  urged  him  on, 
That  he  might  fall  into  the  snare  I  laid.  55 

Tired  with  his  slaughter,  now  he  binds  in  chains 
The  living  victim,  drives  the  captive  herd 
Home  to  his  tent,  nor  doubts  but  they  are  men  : 
There  beats  with  many  a  stripe  the  helpless  foe. 


If 


6 


SOPHOCLES. 


But  I  will  show  thee  this  most  glaring  frenzy,  60 

That  to  the  Grecians  what  thy  eyes  beheld 
Thou  mayst  report :  be  confident,  nor  fear 
His  utmost  malice  ;  I  shall  turn  his  sight 
Askant  from  thee.    Ajax,  what,  ho  !  come  forth  ; 
Thou,  who  dost  bind  in  chains  thy  captive  foes ;      60 
Ajax,  I  say,  come  forth  before  the  portal ! 

Ulys.  What  wouldst  thou  do,  Minerva?    Do  not 
call  him. 

MiN.  What  should  Ulysses  fear  ? 

Ulys.  O  !  by  the  gods 

I  do  entreat  thee,  let  him  stay  within. 

MiN.  But  wherefore  ?    Thou  hast  seen  him  here  be- 


fore. 


70 


75 


Ulys.  He  ever  was,  and  is  my  deadliest  foe. 

MiN.  O  !  but  to  laugh  an  enemy  to  scorn 
Is  mirth  most  grateful. 

Ulys.  I  had  rather  still 

tie  came  not  here. 

MiN.  And  art  thou  then  afraid 

To  see  a  madman  ? 

Ulys.  I  should  little  dread 

The  sight  of  Ajax  in  in  his  better  mind. 

MiN.  He  will  not  see  thee  be  thou  e'er  so  near. 

Ulys.  Impossible  !  his  eyes  are  still  the  same. 

MiN.  But  I    shall    throw  a   veil  of  darkness 
them. 

Ulys.  By  powers  immortal  all  things  may  be  done. 

MiN.  Wait  then  in  silence  till  he  comes.  81 

Ulys.  i  will ; 

And  yet  *twere  better  to  retire. 

MiN.  What,  ho ! 

82  Sophocles  has  closely  copied  his  great  master,  Homer, 
in  the  character  of  Ulysses,  who  is  drawn  by  them  both  as  a 
man  of  extraordinary  prudence  and  circumspection,  with 
more  caution  than  courage,  and  more  cunning  than  gene- 
rosity. 


oer 


AJAX. — ACT   I.  7 

Ajax,  again  I  call  thee ;  wherefore  pay'st  thou 
So  little  reverence  to  thy  guardian  power  ? 

AJAX,   MINERVA,    ULYSSES. 

Ajax.  Hail  to  the  daughter  of  great  Jove !  to  thee, 
Minerva,  hail !  thou  comest  in  happy  hour ;  86 

For  I  will  crown  thee  with  the  golden  spoils 
Which  I  have  gained  by  thy  assisting  hand. 

MiN.  Well   hast  thou  spoke;    but  say,   has   Ajax 
dipp'd 
His  spear  in  Grecian  blood  ? 

Ajax.  It  is  my  boast ;  90 

I'll  not  deny  it. 

MiN.  Did  the  Atrid%  feel 

Thy  vengeful  arm  ? 

Ajax.  They  never  will  again 

Dishonor  Ajax. 

Min.  If  I  understand  thee. 

They  are  both  dead.  • 

Ajax.  They  are  ;  now  let  them  come, 

And  take  my  arms  away. 

MiN.  But  tell  me,  Ajax ;  95 

Laertes'  son,  hath  he  escaped  thy  wrath  ? 

Ajax.  Talk'st  thou  of  him,  that  fox  accursed;? 

Min.  I  mean 

Thy  foe,  Ulysses. 

Ajax.  O  !  he  is  my  captive. 

The  fairest  of  my  spoils  ;  I  have  him  here  ; 
He  shall  not  perish  yet. 

Min.  What  'vantage  then       100 

Meanest  thou  to  draw  from  his  confinement  ? 

Ajax.  First, 

ril  have  him  bound  to  the  pillar. 

Min.  And  what  then 

Wouldst  thou  inflict  ? 

Ajax.  His  limbs  all  purled  o'er 


8 


SOPHOCLES. 


AJAX, — ACT  I. 


With  many  a  bloody  stripe,  he  shall  be  slain. 

MiN.  Do  not  torment  him  thus. 

Ajax.  In  all  things  else,  105 

Minerva,  would  I  gratify  thy  will ; 
But  this,  and  this  alone,  must  be  his  fate. 

MiN.  Since  'tis  so  pleasing  to  thee,  be  it  so, 
Nor  quit  thy  purpose. 

Ajax.  I  must  to  my  work  ; 

Thus,  great  Minerva,  mayst  thou  ever  smile  110 

Propitious  on  me,  and  assist  thy  Ajax  !  [Exit, 


MINERVA,    ULYSSES. 

MiN.  Behold,  Ulysses,  here  the  mighty  strength 
Of  power  divine  :  lived  there  a  man  more  wise. 
More  famed  for  noble  deeds,  than  Ajax  was  ? 

Ulys.  None,  none  indeed  ;  alas  !  I  pity  him ; 
Ev'n  in  a  foe  I  pity  such  distress. 
For  he  is  wedded  to  the  worst  of  woes  : 
Hjs  hapless  state  reminds  me  of  my  own, 
And  tells  me  that  frail  mortals  are  no  more 
Then  a  vain  image  and  an  empty  shade. 

MiN.  Let  such  examples  teach  thee  to  beware 
Against  the  gods  thou  utter  ought  profane ; 
And  if  perchance  in  riches  or  in  power 
Thou  shinest  superior,  be  not  insolent ; 
For,  know,  a  day  sufficeth  to  exalt 
Or  to  depress  the  state  of  mortal  man  : 
The  wise  and  good  are  by  the  gods  beloved, 
But  those  who  practise  evil  they  abhor. 


115 


120 


125 


[Exeunt. 


CHORUS. 

To  thee,  O  Ajax,  valiant  son 
Of  illustrious  Telamon, 


130 


129  The  chorus  is  formed,  with  great  propriety  of  Salami- 
man  soldiers,  the  countrymen  and  followers  of  Ajax,  who, 
having  heard  the  report,  ahready  spread  through  the  army,  of 


135 


140 


145 


Monarch  of  the  sea-girt  isle, 

Fair  Salamis,  if  Fortune  smile 
On  thee,  I  raise  the  tributary  song, 
For  praise  and  virtue  still  to  thee  belong : 
But  when,  inflicted  by  the  wrath  of  Jove, 

Grecian  slander  blasts  thy  fame, 

And  foul  reproach  attaints  thy  name, 
Then  do  I  tremble  like  the  fearful  dove. 

So,  the  last  unhappy  night. 
Clamors  loud  did  reach  mine  ear 
And  fiird  my  anxious  heart  with  fear. 
Which  talk'd  of  Grecian  cattle  slain. 
And  Ajax  maddening  o'er  the  plain, 
Pleased  at  his  prey,  rejoicing  at  the  sight. 

Thus  false  Ulysses  can  prevail. 
Whispering  to  all  his  artful  tale, 
V  His  tale,  alas  !  too  willingly  received  ; 
■|  Whilst  those  who  hear  are  glad  to  know, 

^  And  happy  to  insult  thy  wo  ; 

I  For,  who  asperse  the  great  are  easily  believed. 

The  poor,  like  us,  alone  are  free 

From  the  darts  of  calumny, 
I  Whilst  envy  still  attends  on  high  estate  : 
I  Small  is  the  aid  which  we  can  lend 

Without  the  rich  and  powerful  friend  ;  155 

I  The  great  support  the  low,  the  low  assist  the  great ; 
But  'tis  a  truth  which  fools  will  never  know. 

From  such  alone  the  clamors  came 

Which  strove  to  hurt  thy  spotless  fame, 
Whilst  we  can  only  weep,  and  not  relieve  thy  wo.    160 

Ajax's  madness,  and  the  slaughter  of  the  cattle,  express  the 
deepest  concern  for  their  unhappy  master. 


150 


10 


SOPHOCLES. 


AJAX. — ACT   II. 


11 


<l 


Happy  to  'scape  thy  piercing  sight, 
Behold  them  wing  their  rapid  flight. 
As  trembling  birds  from  hungry  vultures  fly : 

Sudden  again  shouldst  thou  appear, 
«^^;        The  cowards  would  be  mute  with  fear, 
And  all  their  censures  in  a  moment  die. 


166 


Cynthia,  goddess  of  the  grove, 
Daughter  of  immortal  Jove, 

To  whom  at  Tauris  frequent  altars  rise, 

Indignant  might  inspire  the  deed,  170 

And  bid  the  guiltless  cattle  bleed. 

Deprived  of  incense  due,  and  wonted  sacrifice, 

Perhaps,  sad  cause  of  all  our  grief  and  shame  ! 
The  god  of  war,  with  brazen  shield, 
For  fancied  injuries  in  the  field,  175 

Might  thus  avenge  the  wrong,  and  brand  thy  name  : 

For,  never  in  his  perfect  mind. 

Had  Ajax  been  to  ill  inclined  ; 
On  flocks  and  herds  his  rage  had  never  spent : 

It  was  inflicted  from  above.  180 

May  Phoebus  and  all-powerful  Jove 
Avert  the  crime,  or  stop  the  punishment ! 
If  to  the  Atridae  the  bold  fiction  came 

From  Sisyphus'  detested  race. 

No  longer,  Ajax,  hide  thy  face,  185 

But  from  thy  tents    come    forth,  and    vindicate  thy 

fame. 

Ajax,  thy  too  long  repose 
Adds  new  vigor  to  thy  foes, 
As  flames  from  aiding  winds  still  fiercer  grow ; 

184  Or,  in   other  words,  from   Ulysses,   when  the   chorus 
means  to  reproach  as  the  reputed  son  of  Sisyphus. 


Whilst  the  loose  laugh,  and  shameless  lie,    190 
And  all  their  bitter  calumny, 
iVith  double  weight  oppress,  and  fill  ourhearts  with  wo. 

ACT   II. 

TECMESSA,    CHORUS. 

Tec  Sons  of  Erectheus,  of  Athenian  race. 

Ye  brave  companions  of  the  valiant  Ajax, 

Oppressed  with  grief  behold  a  wretched  woman,     195 

Far  from  her  native  soil,  appointed  here 

To  watch  your  hapless  lord,  and  mourn  his  fate. 

Cho.  What  new  misfortune  hath  the  night  brought 
forth  P 
Say,  daughter  of  Teleutas !  for  with  thee, 
His  captive  bride,  the  noble  Ajax  deigns  200 

To  share  the  nuptial  bed  ;  and  therefore  thou 
Canst  best  inform  us. 

Tec.  How  shall  I  declare, 

Sadder  than  death,  the  unutterable  wo ! 
This  night,  with  madness  seized,  hath  Ajax  done 
A  dreadful  deed  :  within  th6u  mayst  behold  205 

The  tents  overspread  with  bloody  carcases 
Of  cattle  slain,  the  victims  of  his  rage. 

Cho.  Sad  news  indeed  thou  bring'st  of  that  brave 
man  ; 

193  Erectheus  is  reported  to  have  been  the  offspring  of  Vul- 
can aad  the  Earth  ;  and  from  him  the  Athenians  boasted  their 
descent.  Salamis  was  not  far  from  Athens ;  Sophocles  there- 
fore salutes  the  followers  of  Ajax  by  the  name  of  Atheniwis. 
For  joining  the  inhabitants  of  Salamis  to  the  Athenians,  So- 
phocles had  the  authority  of  Homer.  ,      .  • 

199  Teleutas  was  a  petty  king  in  Phrygia,  whose  dominions 
being  taken  and  plundered  by  Ajax,  his  daughter,  Tecmessa, 
became  the  victors  captive,  and  by  her  he  had  a  son  named 
Eurysaces. 


AJAX. — ACT  II. 


13 


12 


sophoci.es. 


A  dire  disease,  and  not  by  human  aid 

To  be  removed;  already  Greece  hath  heard,  210 

And  wondering  crowds  repeat  the  dreadful  tale. 

Alas  !  I  fear  the  event :  I  fear  me  much, 

Lest  (with  their  flocks  and  herds  the  shepherds  slain,) 

Against  himself  he  lift  his  murderous  hand. 

Tec.  Alas  !  this  way  he  led  his  captive  spoils,    215 
And  some  he  slew,  and  others  tore  in  sunder : 
From  out  the  flock  two  rams  of  silver  hue 
He  chose  ;  from  one  the  head  and  tongue  divided, 
He  cast  them  from  him  ;  then  the  other,  chained 
Fast  to  the  pillar,  with  a  double  rein  220 

Bore  cruel  stripes,  and  bitterest  execrations. 
Which  not  from  mortal  came,  but  were  inspired 
By  that  avenging  god  who  thus  torments  him. 

Cho.  Now  then,  my  friends,  (for  so   the  time  de- 
mands) 
Each  o'er  his  head  should  cast  the  mournful  veil,  225 
And  instant  fly,  or  to  our  ships  repair. 
And  sail  with  speed  ;  for  dreadful  are  the  threats 
Of  the  Atridae ;  death  may  be  our  lot, 
And  we  shall  meet  an  equal  punishment 
With  him  whom  we  lament,  our  frantic  lord.  230 

Tec.  He  raves  not  now  ;  but,  like  the  southern  blast, 
When  lightnings  cease  and  all  the  storm  is  o*er. 
Grows  calm  again ;  yet  to  his  sense  restored, 
He  feels  new  griefs ;  for  O !  to  be  unhappy, 
And  know  ourselves  alone  the  guilty  cause  235 

Of  all  our  sonows,  is  the  worst  of  woes. 

Cho,  Yet  if  his  rage  subside,  we  should  rejoice : 
The  ill  removed,  we  should  remove  our  care. 

Tec.  Hadst  thou  then  rather,  if  the  choice  were 
given. 
Thyself  at  ease,  behold  thy  friend  in  pain,  240 

Than  with  thy  friend  be  joinM  in  mutual  sorrow  ? 


Cho.  The  double   grief  is  sure  the   most  oppres- 
sive. 

Tec.   Therefore,    though    not    distemper'd,    I    am 
wretched. 

Cho.  I  understand  thee  not. 

Tec.  The  noble  Ajax, 

Whilst  he  was  mad,  was  happy  in  his  frensy,         245 
And  yet  the  while  afl'ected  me  with  grief 
Who  was  not  so  ;  but  now  his  rage  is  o*er. 
And  he  hath  time  to  breathe  from  his  misfortune. 
Himself  is  almost  dead  with  grief,  and  I 
Not  less  unhappy  than  I  was  before.  250 

Is  it  not  doubtful,  then  ? 

Cho.  It  is  indeed  ; 

And  much  I  fear  the  wrath  of  angry  heaven. 
If  from  his  madness  ceased  he  yet  receive 
No  kind  relief. 

Tec.  'Tis  so  ;  and  'twere  most  fit 

You  knew  it  well. 

Cho.  Say  then  how  it  began ;  255 

For,  like  thyself,  we  feel  for  his  misfortunes. 

Tec.  Since  you  partake  the  sorrows  of  a  friend, 
ril  tell  you  all :  know  then,  at  dead  of  night, 
What  time  the  evening  tapers  were  expired. 
Snatching  his  sword,  he  seem'd  as  if  he  meant       260 
To  roam  abroad  :  I  saw  and  chid  him  for  it : 
i*  What  wouldst  thou  do,'  I  cried,  *  my  dearest  Ajax  ? 
Unask'd,  uncall'd  for,  whither  wouldst  thou  go  ? 
g  No  trumpet  sounds  to  battle  ;  the  whole  host 
i  Is  wrapped  in  sleep  V    Then  did  he  answer  me        265 
With  brief  but  sharp  rebuke,  as  he  was  wont, — 
*  Woman,  thy  sex's  noblest  ornament 
Is  silence,'    Thus  reproved,  I  said  no  more  ; 
Then  forth  he  rush'd  alone,  where,  and  for  what, 
I  knew  not ;  but  returning,  he  brought  home  270 

In  chains  the  captive  herd  :  in  pieces  some 


I 


14 


SOPHOCLES. 


AJAX.— iCT    II. 


15 


ll 


285 


He  tore,  whilst  others,  bound  like  slaves,  he  lash'd 

Indignant;  then  out  at  the  portal  ran, 

And  with  some  shadow  seena'd  to  hold  discourse  ; 

Against  the  Atridae,  and  Ulysses  oft  275 

Would  he  inveigh  ;  or,  laughing  loud,  rejoice 

That  he  had  ta'en  revenge  for  all  his  wrongs ; 

Then  back  he  came.     At  length,  by  slow  degrees, 

His  frensy  ceased  ;  when,  soon  as  he  beheld 

The  tents  overwhelmed  with  slaughter,  he  cried  out, 

And  beat  his  brain  ;  roll'd  o'er  the  bloody  heaps    281 

Of  cattle  slain,  and  tore  his  clotted  hair, 

Long  fix*d  in  silence :  then,  with  horrid  threats. 

He  bade  me  tell  him  all  that  had  befallen. 

And  what  he  had  been  doing  :  I  obeyed, 

Trembling  with  fear,  and  told  him  all  I  knew. 

Instant  he  pour'd  forth  bitterest  lamentations, 

Such  as  I  ne'er  had  heard  from  him  before ; 

For  grief  like  that,  he  oft  would  say,  betray'd 

A  weak  and  little  mind ;  and  therefore  ever, 

When  sorrow  came,  refrain'd  from  loud  complaint; 

And,  like  the  lowing  heifer,  inly  mourn'd. 

But  sinking  now  beneath  this  sore  distress. 

He  will  not  taste  of  food  or  nourishment ; 

Silent  he  sits,  amid  the  slaughter'd  cattle ; 

Or,  if  he  speaks,  utters  such  dreadful  words 

As  show  a  mind  intent  on  something  ill. 

Now  then,  my  friends,  (for  therefore  came  I  hither,) 

O!  if  ye  have  the  power,  assist  me  now  : 

Perhaps  ye  may  ;  for  oft  the  afflicted  man  300 

Will  listen  to  the  counsels  of  a  friend. 

Cho.  O  daughter  of  Teleutas,  horrible 
Indeed  thy  tidings  are  of  noble  Ajax, 
Thus  raving,  and  thus  miserable. 

Ajax.  [withiiij  groans.^  O  ! 

Tec,  Louder  you'll  hear  him  soon.     Mark'd  ye,  my 
friends,  305 


290 


295 


How  deep  his  groans? 
Ajax.  [within.]  O  me  ! 

Q^^Q  He  seems  to  rave, 

Or  mourns,  reflecting  on  his  madness  past. 
Ajax.  [within,]  Boy  !  boy  ! 

Tec  Alas !  he  calls  Eurysaces, 

Where  art  thou,  child  ?    What  would  he  have  with 

thee? 
Ajax.  [withiti.]  Teucer,  'tis  thee  I  call ;  where  art 

thou,  Teucer?  ^^^ 

Still  must  he  chase  his  prey,  whilst  Ajax  dies? 

Cho.  He  seems  of  perfect  mind  :  open  the  doors  ; 
Let  him  come  forth.    Who  knows,  but  sight  of  us 
May  keep  him  so? 

Tec.  I'Jl  op^^  them  :  now  see 

[TAe  doors  are  thrown  open  and  Ajax  discovered. 
Your  master  there,  and  judge  of  his  condition.       315 

AJAX,   TECMESSA,   CHORUS. 

Ajax.  My  dear  companions,  who  alone  deserve 
The  name  of  friends,  ye  see  the  dreadful  storm 
How  it  o'erwhelms  me. 

Cho.       What  thou  saidst,  alas!  [aside  to  Tecmessa. 
Was  but  too  true  ;  he  seems  indeed  distracted. 

Ajax.  My  fellow-sailors  !  whose  assisting  hand  320 
Plied  the  tough  oar,  and  led  me  through  the  main  ; 
From  you  alone  can  I  expect  to  meet 
Or  love  or. friendship  ;  therefore  show  it  now, 

And  kill  me. 

Cho.  Talk  not  thus,  nor  thus  increase 

By  added  woes  thy  dreadful  malady.  325 

Ajax.  Dost  thou  behold  this  once  intrepid  Ajax, 
The  brave,  the  mighty,  long  for  strength  renown'd 
And  dauntless  courage  in  the  bloody  field*,— 
Dost  thou  behold  him  ?    O,  what  laughter  now, 


AJAX. — ACT   II. 


17 


16 


SOPHOCLES. 


h 


330 


Wilt 


335 


340 


What  vile  reproach  must  he  sustain  ! 

Tec.  O  Ajax, 

My  lord,  my  master,  do  not  talk  thus  sadly. 

Ajax.  [to  Tecmessa.]  Wilt  thou  not  home? 
not  be  gone  ? 

Tec.  O  me ! 

Cho.  Be  patient ;  by  the  gods,  let  me  entreat  thee, 
Be  more  composed. 

Ajax.  Wretch  that  I  was,  to  let 

The  cursed  Atridae  'scape,  and  shed  the  blood 
Of  harmless  cattle ! 

Cho.  But  why  sorrow  thus 

For  what  is  past,  and  cannot  be  jecalFd  ? 

Ajax.  How  will  that  subtle  instrument  of  ill, 
Laertes*  prying  son,  insult  me  now, 
And  smile  at  my  misfortunes  I 

Cho.  That  must  be 

As  seems  most  fitting  to  the  gods ;  from  them 
Or  grief  or  joy  must  flow. 

Ajax.  O,  would  to  Heaven 

That  I  could  see  him,  wretched  as  I  am  ! 

Cho,  This  is  no  time  for  boasting:  see'st  thou  not 
How  very  weak  thou  art  ? 

Ajax.  Almighty  Jove !  345 

My  progenitor !    O  grant  me  this : 
Grant  me  to  slay  that  hateful,  talking  slave. 
With  the  proud  princes  ;  then,  well  pleased,  mysell 
Should  perish  last. 

Tec.  O  !  if  thou  pray'st  for  death, 

Pray  too  for  mine ;  for  wherefore  should  I  live       350 
When  thou  art  gone  ? 

Ajax.  O  darkness,  my  best  light 

And  hope  !     O  wrap  me  in  thy  friendly  shade, 

346  Ajax  was  the  son  of  Telamon,  the  son  of  ^acusi  the 
son  of  Jove  :  Jupiter  therefore  was  his  great-grandfather. 


355 


A  willing  guest !  I  dare  not  look  for  help, 
Or  from  the  gods  above,  or  men  below : 
The  powerful  daughter  of  eternal  Jove 
To  death  devotes  me.    Whither  can  I  fly, 
Or  where  remain,  my  fame  and  glory  lost 
In  this  sad  frensy?  left  without  a  friend, 
And  the  whole  army  bent  on  my  destruction  ! 

Tec.  Alas  !  how  dreadful  'tis  to  hear  such  words, 
Which  Ajax  never  would  have  spoke  before  !         361 

Ajax.  Ye  well-known  floods  that  roll  into  the  main  ! 
Ye  caves  and  forests  by  the  rocky  shore ! 
Years  heap'd  on  years,  fast  by  the  walls  of  Troy 
Have  ye  detain'd  me  ;  but  no  longer  now  365 

Amongst  the  living  shall  ye  ever  see 
The  hapless  Ajax.     This  remember  all : 
Nor  shall  thy  neighboring  waves,  Scamander,  still 
To  Greece  beneficent,  behold  me  more  : 
Troy  never  saw  (forgive  the  boastful  word  !)  370 

A  braver,  nobler  foe,  than  Ajax  was, 
Though  now  dishonor'd  thus,  and  thus  oppress'd. 

Cho.  I  would  not  have  thee  thus  lament  thy  woes. 
And  yet  I  know  not  how  to  chide  thee  for  it, 
So  hard  thy  lot. 

Ajax.  Who  would  have  thought  my  name 

Would  e'er  so  well  have  suited  my  condition  !        376 
O  !  I  have  reason  to  lament  indeed, 
For  sure  there  is  not  such  a  wretch  as  Ajax  ! 
Long  since  at  Troy  my  valiant  father  fought. 
And  to  his  native  land  with  glory  crown'd,  380 

Bore  back  the  meed  of  his  distinguished  virtues  : 
Nor  less  renown'd  for  gallant  deeds  was  once 

3T5  To  know  the  meaning  of  this  passage,  the  reader  should 
understand  Greek  ;  it  being  nothing  more  than  a  poor  pun  on 
the  name  of  Ajax,  which  in  .the  original  begins  with  Ai,  in 
exclamation  like  our  O  !  expressive  of  pain  and  sorrow. 

SOPH,  B 


F'l 


18 


SOPHOCLES. 


AJAX.— ACT  II. 


19 


1 1  (*. 


r  ■ 


385 


390 


395 


His  hapless  son,  though  now  he  perish  thus^ 

Inglorious :  yet  Achilles,  well  I  know, 

Were  he  alive,  and  to  bestow  his  arms 

On  him  who  best  deserved  the  prize,  to  me, 

And  me  alone,  would  judge  the  great  reward  : 

But  little  deem'd  the  Atridae  worth  like  mine, 

And  therefore  gave  them  to  that  vile  impostor, 

Author  of  every  evil  work,  Ulysses. 

Had  not  my  mind  been  wrought  on  by  some  power 

Superior,  and  my  eyes  averted  from  them, 

They  had  not  lived  to  give  another  sentence ; 

But  Jove's  great  daughter,  the  invincible, 

The  dreadful  Pallas,  turn'd  my  arm  aside. 

Just  raised  against  them,  and  inspired  me  thus 

With  horrid  rage  to  dip  my  murderous  hand 

In  blood  of  guiltless  cattle  ;  they,  meantime. 

Smile  at  the  danger  'scaped,  and  triumph  o'er  me  : 

But,  when  the  gods  oppose  us,  valor  bends  400 

To  cowardice,  and  strength'to  weakness  yields  ; 

What  then  can  Ajax,  hateful  to  the  gods, 

By  Troy  detested,  and  by  Greece  forsaken  ? 

Shall  I  go  leave  the  Atridae  here  alone 

To  fight  their  cause,  and  seek  my  native  land  ? 

But  how  shall  I  appear  before  my  father. 

How  will  he  bear  to  see  his  Ajax  thus 

Spoiled  of  his  honors  ;— he,  who  ever  crown'd 

With  glory  sits  ?  It  must  not,  cannot  be. 

What  if  I  rush  amid  the  Trojan  host, 

And  with  my  single  arm  oppose  them  all ; 

Do  something  noble,  and  as  nobly  perish  ? 

But  that  would  please  the  Atridae*,  therefore  never 

Shall  it  be  done.    No,  I  will  do  a  deed, 

To  show  my  father  that  I  still  deserve  4  l;l 

The  name  of  son,  and  emulate  my  sire. 

When  life  but  teems  with  unremitted  woes, 


405 


410 


1 


:i 


'Tis  poor  in  man  to  wish  a  longer  date  : 

For  what  can  day  on  day,  and  year  on  year, 

But  put  off  wish*d-for  death,  and  lengthen  pain  ?   420 

Of  little  worth  is  he  who  still  depends 

On  fruitless  hope ;  for  it  becomes  the  brave 

To  live  with  honor,  or  to  die  with  glory  ! 

Ye  have  my  thougiits. 

p^^'  Thoughts  not  unworthy  of  thee, 

Ajax  ;  but  quit,  O !  quit  thy  horrid  purpose,  425 

And  yield  thee  to  thy  friends. 

*  ^^*  My  lord,  my  master, 

My  dearest  Ajax,  dreadful  are  the  ills 
Which  cruel  Fortune  brings  on  human  kind. 
Of  noblest  race  (a  better  Phrygia  boasts  not) 
Tecmessa  was,  and  from  a  father  sprung,  430 

Happy  and  free,  though  now  a  wretched  slave ; 
For  so  the  gods  and  thy  all-conquering  arm 
Decreed  :  but  since,  partaker  of  thy  bed. 
Thou  knowest  I  ever  have  with  tenderest  care 
Watch'd  o'er  thee  :  therefore,  by  domestic  Jove !    435 
Here  I  entreat  thee,  by  the  sacred  tie 
That  binds  us,  let  me  not  with  foul  reproach 
And  bitter  scorn  be  taunted  by  thy  foes, 
When  they  surround  me,  as  I  know  they  will  : 
For,  O !  when  thou  shalt  die,  that  very  day  440 

The  Greeks  with  violence  will  seize  on  me ; 
Tecmessa,  then,  and  thy  loved  son,  shall  eat 
The  bread  of  slavery  ;  then  some  haughty  lord. 
Insulting  loud,  shall  cry,  *  Behold  the  wife 
Of  Ajax.  once  the  pride  of  all  our  host !  445 

How  is  she  fallen  from  envied  happiness 
To  servitude  and  wo  !'  Such  vile  itpbraidings 
Oft  shall  I  hear,  on  thee  and  on  thy  race 
Casting  foul  shame,    O,  then  relent,  my  Ajax  ! 
Think  on  thy  father  in  the  vale  of  years  ;  450 


V.   i 


20 


SOPHOCLES. 


A  J  AX.— ACT   II. 


21 


455 


460 


465 


Think  on  thy  aged  mother,  who  with  vows 
Incessant  prays  the  gods  to  send  thee  back 
Safe  to  thy  native  land  ;  pity  thy  son. 
Without  a  father  in  his  tender  youth 
To  form  his  mind,  left  to  the  unfriendly  hands 
Of  those  who  love  him  not.    Alas  !  what  woes 
Wilt  thou  bequeathe  to  me  and  to  thy  child  ! 
I  have  no  hope,  no  stay,  but  thee  alone ! 
Thy  hand  destroy'd  my  country  and  my  mother ; 
Death  snatch 'd  my  father  to  the  realms  below  : 
Deprived  of  thee,  what  country  will  receive  me  ! 
Or  where  shall  I  subsist  ?  Thou  art  my  all, 
My  only  safeguard :  do  not,  do  not  leave  me  ! 
Nought  so  becomes  a  man  as  gratitude 
For  goods  received,  and  noble  deeds  are  still 
The  offspring  of  benevolence  ;  whilst  he, 
With  whom  remembrance  dies  of  blessings  past, 
Is  vile  and  worthless. 

Cho.  O,  that  thou  coul  1st  feel 

Pity  like  mine  for  this  unhappy  woman  ! 
Then  wouldst  thou  say  her  words  deserve  thy  praise. 

Ajax.   And   praised  she  shall  be,  if  she  but  per 
form 
What  I  require. 

Tec.  In  all  I  will  obey  thee. 

My  dearest  Ajax ! 

Ajax.  I  would  see  my  child  ; 

Let  him  be  brought. 

Tec.  I  bid  him  from  thy  sight 

Because  of 

Ajax.  My  distemper,  was  it  not? 


469 


475 


Tec 


It  was  :  I  fear'd,  indeed,  thou  mightst  destroy 
him. 
Ajax.  And  well  thou  mightst :  a  deed  like  that  be- 
came 


My  sad  condition. 
Tec.  Therefore,  to  prevent  it, 

I  kept  him  from  thee. 

j^jxx,  I  approve  thy  caution. 

Tec    What  wouldst  thou  have  me  do  ? 

^j^x.  ^^^  ^^  behold    480 

And  speak  to  him. 

Tec.  He  is  not  far  from  hence ; 

The  servants  have  him  in  their  care. 

Ajax.  Then  why 

May  I  not  see  him  ? 

Tec.  Boy  !  thy  father  calls  thee  : 

Let  some  one  bring  him  hither. 

Ajax.  Is  ^^  co^^^^S  ' 

Doth  he  not  hear  thee? 

Tec.  They  have  brought  him  to  thee.  485 

lEnier  servants  with  Eurysaces. 

eurysaces,  tecmessa,  ajax,  chorus. 

Ajax,  Bring  him  this  way  ;  for  if  he  be  the  son 
Of  Ajax,  the  fresh  blood  that  hangs  about  me 
Will  not  affright  him  :  he  must  learn,  like  me, 
In  earliest  years  the  savage  laws  of  war. 
And  be  inured  to  scenes  of  death  and  slaughter. 
Mayst  thou,  my  boy,  be  happier  than  thy  father ! 
In;all  things  else  it  will  be  no  disgrace 
To"  copy  me.     I  envy  thee,  my  child. 
For  that  thou  seest  not  thy  own  wretchedness  ; 
The  happiness  of  life  is  not  to  know. 
Thy  ignorance  will  keep  thee  free  from  pain, 
Till  time  shall  teach  thee  what  it  is  to  grieve; 
And  to  rejoice ;  then  must  thou  show  thy  foes 
From  whom  thou  art  descended.    May  the  breath 
Of  life,  meantime,  nourish  thy  tender  frame,  500 

That  thou  mayst  prove  a  comfort  to  thy  mother ! 


490 


495 


l^mmimA^^^^. 


22 


SOPHOCLES. 


I  know  there  's  not  a  Grecian  that  will  dare 

Insult  thee,  when  thy  father  is  no  more  j 

For  I  shall  leave  thee  to  the  best  of  guardians, 

The  faithful  Teucer,  who,  far  from  thee  now,  505 

Sent  forth  by  Greece,  repels  the  invading  foe. 

Of  you,  my  friends,  companions  of  the  war, 

The  only  boon  I  ask,  is,  that  ye  urge 

This  last  request  to  Teucer ;  say,  I  begg'd 

That  straight  to  Telamon  and  Eriboea,  510 

My  aged  parents,  he  would  bear  my  child, 

To  be  the  joy  of  their  declining  years. 

Till  death  shall  call  them  to  the  shades  below. 

Let  not  my  arms  by  Greece,  or  by  that  plague, 

Ulysses,  e'er  be  made  the  pride  of  glory  515 

For  rival  chiefs :  but  do  thou  take,  my  boy, 

[turning  to  Euri/saces. 
Ihe  sevenfold,  vast,  impenetrable  shield. 
Whose  name  thou  bear'st ;  the  rest  be  buried  with  me. 
Take  hence  the  child  with  speed  ;  nor  in  the  tents 
Let  there  be  wailings  :  women  ever  love  520 

To  brood  o'er  sorrows,  and  indulge  their  \^o. 
Shut  to  the  door.    The  wound  that  must  be  cut, 
No  wise  physician  will  attempt  to  heal 
With  incantation,  elegy,  or  song. 

Cho.  I  tremble  when  I  hear  thee  threatening  thus 
With  sharp  and  piercing  voice.  526 

'^^^^  Alas !  my  lord. 

What  wilt  thou  do  ? 

-^JAX.  Guess  not ;  inquire  not  of  me ; 

Be  silent,  and  be  wise ;  it  will  become  thee. 
Tec.  How  am  I  tortured  !  by  the  gods,  I  beg  thee, 

518  The  name  of  Eurysaces  is  derived  from  two  Greek 
words,  signifymg  '  a  broad  shield.'  The  custom  of  buryine 
the  arms  of  deceased  warriors  in  the  same  grave  with  them 
w  very  ancient,  and  is  practised  amongst  the  Indians  at  this 


I 


AJAX. — ACT  II. 


28 


By  our  dear  child,  do  not  destroy  us  both.  530 

Ajax   Thou  dost  perplex  me.  Why  revere  the  gods  ? 

I  am  not  bound  to  it,  for  I  owe  them  nothing. 

Tec    Be  not  so  impious. 

^j^^  •         Talk  to  those  will  hear  thee. 

Tec.  Art  thou  resolved  then  ?  ,      .,        •  r 

^j^x       "  'Tis  too  much  ;  thy  grief 

Grows  troublesome.  ,     ^  x  r  ^q*; 

Tec  Alas  !  my  lord,  I  fear 535 

Ajax.  \ to  the  Chorus.]  Will  ye  not  take  her  hence? 
*^^^     *-  O !  by  the  gods 

I  beg  Ihee,  be  persuaded. 

Ajax  Thou  art  mad 

To  think  thy  woids  will  ever  change  my  P^rP^^^J;^^^ 

ODE.— CHORUS. 
STROPHE. 

O  happiest,  best  abode,  my  native  isle, 

Fair  Salamis,  encompass'd  by  the  sea,  54U 

On  thee  whilst  gods  and  men  indulgent  smile, 
My  country,  O  behold  and  pity  me ! 

A  long,  long  time  on  Ida's  plain. 

Thus  doom'd  inglorious  to  remain. 
While  circling  years  roll  o'er  my  wretched  head  :  545 

New  terrors  still  affright  me  here  ; 

Still  is  my  heart  appalfd  with  fear, 
Lest  I  should  visit  soon  the  mansions  of  the  dead. 

ANTlSTROPHE.  - 

The  woes  of  Ajax  too  embitter  mine. 

The  bravest  leader  of  the  Grecian  host, 
Untimely  visited  by  wrath  divine, 
And  in  the  desperate,  cruel  frensy  lost. 
There  was  a  time  when,  sent  by  thee, 
He  gain'd  the  wreath  of  victory. 
Though  now  his  weeping  friends  lament  his  fall.    555 


550 


24 


SOPHOCLES. 


The  angrateful  chiefs  revere  no  more 
The  virtues  they  admired  before  : 
His  gallant  deeds  are  now  forgotten  all. 

STROPHE  II.  ^ 

Weigh'd  down  with  years,  when  thou,  in  hoary  age, 

Unhappy  mother,  shalt  these  tidings  hear  560 

Of  the  dear  Aj ax,  and  his  cruel  rage. 

How  wilt  thou  weep  and  wail  with  grief  sincere  ! 

Not  like  the  plaintive  nightingale 

That  warbles  sweet  her  tender  tale, 
But  with  loud  shrieks  of  horrible  despair :  565 

With  sharpest  anguish  sore  oppress'd, 

Then  shalt  thou  beat  thy  aged  breast, 
And  in  deep  sorrow  rend  thy  wild  dishevell'd  hair. 

ANTISTROPHE  II. 

'Tis  better  far  to  die,  than,  hopeless  still 

Of  cure,  to  languish  under  sore  disease  ;  670 

When  mortals  suffer  such  distinguished  ill. 
The  silent  tomb  is  liberty  and  ease. 
Ajax,  the  pride  of  all  our  host, 
His  ancient  fame  and  glory  lost, 
Sinks  down  at  last  o*erwhelm*d  with  foul  disgrace  : 
How  will  his  hapless  father  bear  576 

His  son's  distressful  fate  to  hear, 
Ev'n  such  as  never  fell  on  ^acus*  race. 


ACT   III. 

AJAX,  TECMESSA,    CHORUS. 

Ajax.  Still  are  the  secret  things  of  man  reveaFd, 

And  what  is  known,  again  in  darkness  hid,  680 

By  endless  and  immeasurable  time  ; 

And  nothing  is  there,  but  in  length  and  days 

May  come  to  pass :  ev'n  sacred  oaths  are  broken  ; 


<       AJAX.— ACT  III. 


25 


585 


590 


596 


And  the  fix'd  mind,  perverse  and  obstinate, 

Subdued  by  time.    I,  who,  like  harden'd  steel. 

Was  late  inflexible,  am  softened  now 

To  pity  and  remorse  by  this  dear  woman : 

I  cannot  bear  to  leave  her  here  a  widow 

Amidst  her  foes,  or  to  forsake  my  child, 

A  helpless  orphan.     No,  I  will  retire 

Along  the  shore,  and  seek  the  running  stream, 

Avert  the  wrath  of  angry  Heaven,  and  wash 

My  crimes  away  ;  there  haply  shall  I  find 

Some  unfrequented  spot  where  I  may  hide 

This  fatal  weapon,  this  destructive  sword. 

O  !  I  will  bury  it  deep  in  earth,  that  none 

May  see  it  more  ;  but  Night  and  Erebus 

Preserve  it  still  from  every  mortal  eye- 

E'er  since  that  hapless  day,  when  from  the  hand 

Of  Hector  I  received  this  dreadful  boon,  wu 

Naught  have  I  had  from  Greece  but  pain  and  wo  : 

True  is  the  adage,  *  From  the  hands  of  foes. 

Gifts  are  not  gifts,  but  injuries  most  fatal. 

Hereafter  will  I  yield  me  to  the  gods 

And  the  Atridse  :  since  they  are  my  masters, 

Tis  meet  that  I  obey  them  :  all  that  is  strong 

And  mighty  must  submit  to  powers  superior. 

Doth  not  the  snowy  winter  to  the  bloom 

Of  fruitful  summer  yield  ?  and  night  obscure. 

When  by  white  steeds  Aurora  drawn,  lights  up 

The  rising  day,  submissively  retire  ? 

The  roaring  sea.  long  vex'd  by  angry  winds, 

Is  lull'd  by  milder  zephyrs  to  repose  ; 

And  oft  the  fetters  of  all-conquering  sleep 

Are  kindly  loosed  to  free  the  captive  mind. 

From  Nature,  then,  who  thus  instructs  mankind. 

Why  should  not  Ajax  learn  humility  ? 

Long  since  I  knew  to  treat  my  foe  like  one 


606 


610 


616 


26 


SOPHOCLES. 


AJAX. — ACT  III. 


27 


625 


Whom  I  hereafter  as  a  friend  might  love, 

If  he  deserved  it ;  and  to  love  my  friend  620 

As  if  he  still  might  one  day  be  my  foe  : 

For  little  is  the  trust  we  can  repose 

In  human  friendships  :  but  to  my  intent. 

Go  thou,  Tecmessa,  and  beseech  the  gods 

To  grant  what  I  request ;  do  you  perform 

The  same  kind  office  ;  and  when  Teucer  comes, 

Tell  him,  the  care  of  me  and  of  my  friends 

I  leave  to  him  ;  whither  I  must,  I  must : 

Obey  my  orders  :  wretched  as  I  am,  629 

Soon  shall  ye  see  me  freed  from  all  my  woes.  [Exeunt, 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE. 

Now  let  sounds  of  mirth  and  joy 

Every  blissful  hour  employ  : 

Borne  on  pleasure's  airy  wing, 

lo  Pan  !  to  thee  we  sing ; — 

Thee,  whom  on  the  rocky  shore,  635 

Wreck-scaped  mariners  adore, 

Skiird  the  mazy  dance  to  lead  ; 

Teach,  0  !  teach  our  feet  to  tread 

The  round  which  Cretan  Cnossus  knows, 

At  Nysa,  which  spontaneous  rose,  640 

Pan,  O  !  guide  this  tuneful  throng. 

While  to  thee  we  raise  the  song, 

From  Cyllene's  snowy  brow  : 

King  of  pleasures,  hear  us  now  ! 

From  thy  mountains,  O  !  appear :  645 

Joy  and  happiness  are  here  : 

And  do  thou,  O  Delian  kiug. 

Now  thy  aid  propitious  bring  ! 

O !  from  the  Icarian  sea. 

Come,  Apollo,  smile  on  me.  650 


i   ''*  I 


ANTISTROPHE. 

All  our  sorrows  now  are  o*er  ; 
Grief  and  madness  are  no  more  : 
See,  the  happy  day  appears. 
Mighty  Jove !  that  ends  our  fears. 
Let  us,  free  from  every  care. 
Gladly  to  our  ships' repair : 
Ajax  now  in  sweet  repose 
Sinks,  forgetful  of  his  woes ; 
Humbly  to  the  gods  resigned, 
He  devotes  his  better  mind  : 
Time,  that  withers,  can  restore 
Human  pleasures :  now  no  more 
Must  we  say  our  vows  are  vain  : 
Naught  unhoped  for  should  remain  ; 
Since,  beyond  our  wishes,  see 
Ajax  from  his  madness  free  ; 
'Gainst  the  Atridae  all  his  rage 
See  how  mildei  thoughts  assuage. 
Bitter  strife  and  quarrels  cease ; 
All  is  harmony  and  peace. 

MESSENGER,  CHORUS. 

Mes.  My  friends,  I  bear  you  news  of  highest 

port ; 
From  Mysia's  rocky  mountains  hither  comes 
The  noble  Teucer :  know,  ev'n  now  I  saw  him 
Amid  the  Grecian  host,  who,  as  he  came. 
Surrounded,  and  on  every  side  pour'd  forth 
Reproaches  on  him  :  not  a  man  but  cried, 
'  Behold  the  brother  of  that  frantic  foe 
To  Greece  and  to  her  council.'    Such  their  rage. 
That  they  had  well-nigh  stoned  him;   swords 

drawn. 
And  dire  had  been  the  conflict,  but  that  some 


655 


660 


665 


670 


im- 


675 


were 
680 


AJAX. — ACT  III. 


28 


SOPHOCLES. 


685 


Among  the  aged  chiefs,  by  calm  advice, 
Appeased  the  strife:  but  where  is  Ajax  gone ? 
That  I  may  tell  him :  from  our  masters  naught 
Should  be  concealed. 

Cho.  He  is  not  now  within, 

But  just  steps  forth,  as  if  on  some  new  act 
Intent,  well-suited  to  his  better  mind. 

Mes.  Alas !  too  late  did  Teucer  send  me  here, 
Or  I  am  come  too  slowly. 

Cho.  Why  regret 

His  absence  thus  ? 

Mes.  'Twas  Teucer*s  strict  command 

He  should  be  kept  within  the  tent,  nor  stir  690 

Till  he  arrived. 

Cho.  But,  to  his  sense  restored, 

He  went  to  deprecate  the  wrath  divine, 
And  expiate  his  oflence. 

Mes.  Thy  words  are  vain, 

If  Calchas  prophesy  aright. 

Cho.  What  then 

Did  Calchas  say?  Dost  thou  know  aught  of  this?  695 

Mes.  Thus  far  I  know,  for  I  was  witness  of  it : 
Calchas,  retiring  from  the  assembled  chiefs, 
Apart  from  the  Atridae,  gently  pressed 
The  hand  of  Teucer,  and  in  tenderest  friendship 


Besought  him,  that  by  every  human  art 
And  means  to  be  devised,  he  would  prevent 
Ajax's  wandering  forth  this  fatal  day, 
If  he  did  ever  wish  to  see  him  more : 
This  day  alone,  he  said,  Minerva's  wrath 
Would  last  against  him ;  Oft  the  mighty  fall 
In  deep  affliction,  smit  by  angry  Heaven, 
When,  mortal-bom,  to  human  laws  they  yield  not. 
As  mortals  ought,  submissively.    Thus  spake 
The  prophet,  and  long  since  was  Ajax  deem'd 


700 


705 


29 
710 


To  have  a  mind  disturbed.    When  first  he  left^ 
His  native  soil ;— *  Be  conqueror,  O  my  child  !' 
His  father  said,  '  but  conquer  under  God.' 
Impious  and  proud  his  answer  was  :— *  The  worst 
Of  men,'  he  cried,  '  assisted  by  the  gods. 
May  conquer :  I  shall  do  the  work  without  them  !    715 
Such  were  his  boastings  :  and  when  Pallas  once. 
With  kind  assistance,  urged  him  to  the  fight, 
Dreadful  and  horrible  was  his  reply  ;— 
'  Go,  queen,  lo  other  Grecians  lend  thy  aid  ; 
'Tis  needless  here  ;  for  know,  where  Ajax  is,  720 

The  foe  will  never  come.'    By  words  like  these. 
And  pride  ill-suited  to  a  mortal's  power, 
Did  he  ofi"end  the  vengeful  deity  : 
But  if  he  lives,  we  may  preserve  him  still. 
The  gods  assisting;  so  the  prophet  spake ;  725 

And  Teucer  bade  me  say,  you  all  should  try 
To  keep  him  here  :  but  if  that  cannot  be, 
\nd  Calchas  judge  aright,  he  is  no  more. 
Cho.  [to  Tecmessa  within.]  What,  ho !  Tecmessa, 
most  unhappy  woman !        ,      ,     ^  .  ^-. 

Come  forth,  and  hear  the  tidings  that  he  brings ;    730 
They  wound  us  deep,  and  all  our  joys  are  gone. 

TECMESSA,   messenger,  CHORUS. 

Tec   Scarce  do  I  breathe  from  still  repeated  woes. 
And  now  again  thou  call'st  me  :  wherefore  ?  speak 

Cho.   This  messenger    hath  brought  us  dreadful 
news 
Concerning  Ajax  :  hear  him. 

rjj.^  O  1  what  is  It  ? 

Am  I  undone  ? 

Mes.  I  know  not  what  thou  art ; 

But  if  thy  Ajax  be  gone  forth,  my  fears 
Are  great  for  him. 

Tec  Alas  I  he  is ;  but  why  ? 


735 


1 


30 


SOPHOCLES. 


AJAX.-^ACT   IV. 


I 


How  thou  afflict*st  me  ! 

Mes,  Teucer  hath  forbid 

His  wandering  thus  alone. 

Tec.  But  why  forbade  him  ?  740 

And  where  is  Teucer  ? 

Mes.  He  will  soon  be  here : 

He  fears  this  fatal  day. 

Tec,  Undone  Tecmessa! 

Whence  are  his  fe|irs  ?  Who  told  him  'twould  be  fatal  ? 

Mes.  The  historian  Calchas  did  foretel  this  day 
To  life  or  death  would  fix  the  fate  of  Ajax.  745 

Tec.  [to  the   Chorus,]    Assist   me,  friends,  in  this 
distressful  hour : 
To  Teucer  hasten,  and  bring  him  to  my  aid. 
Some  to  yon  western  mountain  bend  your  way, 
And  some  to  the  east ;  find  out  which  path  he  went. 
Unhappy  wanderer !     O  !  he  has  deceived  me.       750 
His  former  love  forgotten  all,  and  gone. 
What  must  we  do,  my  child  ?    I  must  not  sit 
Inactive  here :  no,  whereso*er  I  can, 
ril  go  to  search  him  :  let  us  haste,  my  friends. 
Quick,  fly  this  instant,  if  we  mean  to  save  755 

The  wretched  Ajax  rushing  on  destruction. 

Cho.  Behold  us  ready,  not  in  word  alone, 
But  bent  with  speed  to  follow  thee.    Away.  [Exeunt. 

ACT  IV. 

AJAX.' 

There  stands  my  sword,  and  fix'd  as  ft  may  best 

Perform  its  office  ;  'twas  the  gift  of  Hector, 

My  worst  of  foes,  whom  I  detested  ever. 

The  steel-devouring  stone  hath  sharpened  well 

Its  keenest  edge  :  buried  in  Trojan  earth 

It  lies,  and  now  in  kindness  seems  prepared. 


31 


765 


770 


775 


To  end  my  wretched  life :  thus  far  is  well. 

And  now,  O,  Jove  !  (for  first  to  thee  'tis  fit 

We  pay  due  honors,)  I  address  my  prayer : 

I  ask  not  much  ;  I  ask  thee  but  to  send 

Some  passing  stranger  here  to  bear  the  news 

Of  my  unhappy  fate  to  Teucer*s  ear. 

That  he  may  first  behold,  and  take  me  hence  ! 

Lest,  by  my  foes  discovered,  I  be  cast 

A  prey  to  dogs  and  birds  :  forbid  it,  Jove ! 

Thee  too,  great  leader  of  departed  souls, 

Terrestrial  Hermes,  thee  I  call.    O  !  hear  me ; 

With  easy  steps,  and  swift,  conduct  me  safe 

To  my  abode,  soon  as  this  fatal  sword 

Shall  reach  my  breast;  and  you,  ye  virgin  Powers, 

From  whom  whatever  befals  of  human  ill 

Cannot  be  hid ;  ye  goddesses  revered,  780 

Swift  to  pursue  the  guilty  :— O  !  behold 

The  wretched  Ajax  by  the  Atridae  fall ! 

O !  seize  the  murderous  !     By  my  own  sad  hand 

As  I  shall  perish,  let  my  foes  be  slain 

By  those  whom  most  they  love  !     Quick  fly  begone. 

Ye  vengeful  Furies  ;  gorge  yourselves  in  blood,      786 

Nor  spare  a  man  of  all  the  Grecian  host. 

And  thou,  O  Sun  !  who  drivest  the  flaming  car 

Along  the  vaulted  sky  ;  when  thou  shalt  see 

My  native  soil,  O  !  stop  thy  golden  reins  ; 

Tell  the  sad  story  to  my  hapless  sire, 

And  my  afflicted  mother  :  when  she  hears 

The  mournful  tale,  her  grief  will  fill  the  land 

With  dreadful  lamentations :  but  'tis  vain 

To  weep  my  fate ;  the  business  must  be  done. 

O  Death  !  look  on  me,  Death !  I  come  to  thee  : 

Soon  shall  we  meet :  but  thee,  O  glorious  Day, 

And  yon  bright  charioteer,  the  Sun,  no  more 

3hall  I  behold  :  ev'n  now  thou  hear'st  py  last. 


790 


795 


...i^^. 


32 


SOPHOCLES. 


My  dying  words.     O  Light !  O  sacred  soil  800 

Of  Salamis,  my  country,  and  her  gods  ! 

O  noble  Athens  !  O  my  loved  companions  I 

Ye  rivers,  fountains,  and  fair  fields  of  Troy  ! 

And  you,  my  honor*!  parents  !  O,  farewell ! 

'Tis  the  last  word  Ajax  shal  speak  on  earth  :        805 

The  rest  be  utter'd  to  the  shades  below. 

[Ajajc  falls  on  his  sword,  and  dies. 

C  HORUS. 

Semicho.  h  Labor  on  labor !  toil  on  toil !  O,  whi- 
ther 
Have  we  not  wandered  ?  yet  no  place  inform  us 
Where  Ajax  is :  but  soft,  I  hear  a  voice. 
Semicho.  ii.  'Twas  ours,  your  friends. 
Semicho.  i.  What  news  ? 

Semicho.  ii.  We've  search'd  along  810 

The  western  shore. 

Semicho.  i.  ;  And  is  he  found  ? 

Semicho.  ii.  A.las ! 

We  met  with  naught  but  toil ;  no  sight  of  him. 
Semicho.  i.  We  from  the  east  return  with  like  suc- 
cess; 
For  none  have  seen  or  heard  of  him  that  way. 
Semic.  ii.  Who   will  inform  us?  who  will  say     815 
Where  cruel  Ajax  bent  his  way? 
Will  not  the  watchful  hind,  who,  void  of  sleep, 

Hangs  laborious  o*er  the  deep  ? 
From  high  Olympus  will  no  pitying  god, 

Will  no  kind;naaid  of  the  flood,  820 

If  chance  they  see  the  cruel  Ajax  stray, 

Tell  us  where  he  bent  his  way  ? 
For,  O  !  'tis  dreadful,  wearied  thus,  to  rove. 
Whilst  all  our  pains  successless  prove 
To  reach  the  destined  goal  or  find  the  man  we  love. 


AJAX.— act   IV. 


.33 


Tec.  \ from  within.]  Alas!  alas!  826 

Semicho.  i.  Hark!  from  the  neighboring  grove 

I  heard  a  voice. 
Semicho.  ii.     It  is  the  wretched  captive. 

The  wife  of  Ajax  ;  the  poor,  sad  Tccmessa. 

tecmessa,  chorus. 
Tec.  O  !  I  am  lost,  my  friends  !  undone,  destroyed. 
Cho.  Ha  !  what  hath  happen'd  ? 
Tec.  Ajax  lies  before  me,  830 

Slain  by  the  sword  which  he  had  buried  here. 
Cho.        Fatal,  sure,  was  our  return, 

Thy  untimely  death  to  mourn. 
Me,  and  all  thy  faithful  train. 
Cruel  Ajax,  hast  thou  slain  ;  835 

Sad  event,  alas  !  to  me ; 
Sadder,  woman  I  still  to  thee. 
Tec.  O  !  I  have  reason  now  to  weep,  indeed. 
Cho.  What  hand  peiform'd  the  horrid  deed  ? 
Tec.  His  own, 

Doubtless  it  was ;  the  sword  he  fell  upon,  840 

Here,  fix'd  in  earth,  declares  it  must  be  so. 
Cho.  [approachinf/  towards  the  body.] 

Alone,  without  one  pitying  friend, 
Camest  thou  to  this  dreadful  end ;. 
Was  I  not  myself  to  blame, 
Who,  neglectful,  never  came  ?  845 

Bring  him,  Tecmessa,  to  my  eyes  ; 
Tell  me,  where  thy  Ajax  lies. 
Tec.  He  is  not  to  be  seen  :  this  folded  garment 
Shall  hide  the  horrid  sight;— a  sight,  no  friend       849 
Would  wish  to  see  ;  whilst  from  his  nostrils  stream 
The  black  blood,  more  still  issuing  from  the  wound, 
Made  by  his  own  destructive  hand.     O  me  ! 
What  must  I  do  ?  what  friend  will  raise  him  up  ? 
soph.  c 


.1 


34 


SOPHOCLES. 


O  !  where  is  Teucer?    He  should  have  been  here 
To  pay  his  last  sad  duty  to  a  brother.  ^^^ 

O  wretched  Ajax!  but  to  think,  alas  ! 
What  once  thou  hast  been,  and  what  now  thou  art, 
Thy  very  foes  must  sure  lament  thy  fate. 
Cho.  Ajax,  long  since  in  thy  obdurate  mind, 

Thy  sad  purpose  was  designed  ;  860 

Long  since  wert  thou  resolved  to  seek  repose 

From  thy  never-ceasing  woes. 
This,  from  the  daily  sigh,  the  nightly  tear. 

This  from  thy  sorrows  did  I  fear ; 
This  from  thy  hate,  which  naught  could  e'er  assuage  ; 

And  'gainst  the  Atridae  all  thy  rage  :  806 

For  never  did  thy  soul  contentment  know, 

But  still  with  fiercest  indignation  glow. 
Since  great  Achilles'  arms  were  given  to  thy  foe. 

Tec.  O  me  ! 

Cho.         Alas  !  I  know  the  wound  must  pierce  870 

Thy  inmost  soul. 

Tec.  Unhappy,  lost  Tecmessa  ! 

Cho.  O  !  I  believe  thou  art  indeed  unhappy, 
Bereaved  of  such  a  friend. 

Tec.  Thou  but  believ'st  it ; 

I  am  too  certain,  for  I  feel  it  here. 

Cho.  I  know  thou  dost. 

Tec.  What  servitude,  my  child,  875 

Must  we  endure  ?    Who  will  protect  us  now  ? 

Cho.    Doubtless  thy  fear  of  future  pain 
From  the  Atridae  all  are  vain  ; 
For  never  can  they  mean  such  ills  to  thee. 
Unfeeling  they  of  human  wo. 
Nor  love  nor  piety  could  know. 
May  heaven  avert  the  sad  calamity  ! 

Tec.  The  gods  ordain'd  it,  and  it  must  be  so« 

Cho.  But  he  hath  suffe^d  more  than  he  deserved. 


880 


AJAX. — ACT  IV. 


35 


Tec.  Jove's  dreadful  daughter,  Pallas,  so  decreed 
His  fate,  to  gratify  her  loved  Ulysses.  886 

Cho.  Ulysses,  ever  pleased  to  see 

His  madness,  now  will  smile  at  thee  ; 
Will  laugh  at  Ajax'  woes,  nor  pity  thine : 

By  him  the  cursed  Atridae  led,  890 

Perhaps  will  triumph  o'er  the  dead, 
And  in  the  cruel  mirth  with  pleasure  join. 

Tec.  Let  them  rejoice,  let  them  insult  him  now 
With  savage  joy ;  but  when  the  dreadful  day 
Of  battle  comes,  whom  living  they  despised  895 

When  dead  they  shall  lament :  fools  never  know 
The  treasure's  value,  till  the  treasure's  lost. 
But  far  more  bitter  was  his  death  to  me, 
Than  sweet  to  them  :  to  Ajax  'twas  most  welcome  ; 
Death  was  his  only  wish,  and  he  obtain'd  it :  900 

Then  wherefore  should  they  triumph  ?    By  the  hand 
Of  Heaven,  and  not  by  theirs,  my  Ajax  fell. 
Then  let  Ulysses  smile :  he  is  not  theirs, 
He  lives  not  for  the  Grecians ;  he  is  gone, 
And  has  bequeathed  his  sorrows  all  to  me.  905 

teucer,  tecmessa,  chorus. 

Teu.  Alas  !  alas ! 

Cho.  Hark  !  'tis  the  voice  of  Teucer, 

In  mournful  sighs  lamenting  our  sad  fate. 

Teu.  O  Ajax  !  is  it  so  ?  My  dearest  brother, — 
Dear  as  these  eyes  to  me,  hath  fame  said  true. 
And  art  thou  gone  ? 

Cho.  O  Teucer !  he  is  dead.  910 

Teu.  Unhappy  fate ! 

Cho.  'Tis  so,  indeed. 

Teu.  Alas ! 

Wretch  that  I  am  ! 

Cho.  O  !  thou  hast  cause  to  weep. 


96 


SOPHOCLES. 


Teu.  Dreadful  calamity ! 

Cho.  It  is,  indeed, 

Too  much  to  bear. 

Teu.  O  wretched,  wretched  Teucer  ! 
Where  is  the  child  ?    Is  he  at  Troy  ? 

Cho.  Alone  916 

And  in  the  tent. 

Teu.  Will  ye  not  bring  him  to  me, 

Lest  he  should  fall  a  victim  to  the  foe ; 
Ev'n  as  the  hunters  seize  the  Iion*s  whelp 
Left  to  its  helpless  dam  ?     Quick  !  fly !  assist  me  ; 
For  all  are  glad  to  triumph  o'er  the  dead.  920 

Cho.  To  thee,  O  Teucer  !  he  bequeathed  the  care 
Of  his  loved  child,  and  thou  obey'st  him  well. 

Teu.  O  Ajax  !  never  did  these  eyes  behold 
A  sight  so  dreadful.     Came  I  then  for  this 
With  luckless  speed  ?     O  melancholy  journey  !      925 
To  seek  thee  long  in  vain,  and  thus  at  last 
To  find  thee  dead  before  me !  O  my  brother  ! 
Quick  through  the  Grecian  host,  as  if  some  god 
Had  brought  the  tidings,  spread  the  dire  report 
Of  thy  untimely  fate  :  far  from  thee  then  930 

I  heard  and  wept ;  but   now,  alas  !  I  see. 
And  am  undone.     My  best,  my  dearest  Ajax! 
Unveil  the  body ;  let  me  view  it  well, 
And  count  my  miseries:  horrid  spectacle  ! 
O  rash  adventurous  deed  !  what  weight  of  wo        935 
Thy  death  has  laid  on  me !  Alas  !  to  whom. 
Or  whither  shall  I  go  ?  O  !  wherefore,  Teucer, 
Wert  thou  not  here  to  stop  a  brother's  hand  ? 
What  will  our  poor  unhappy  father  say, 
The  wretched  Telamon  ?  Will  he  receive  me  940 

With  looks  of  love  and  pleasure,  when  I  come 
Without  his  Ajax  ?  O !  he  never  will. 
Ev'n  in  the  best  of  times  he  was  not  wont 


AJAX. — ACT   IV, 


37 


To  smile,  or  joy  in  aught :  what  then  will  now 
His  anger  vent?  Will  he  not  speak  of  me 
As  of  a  faithless,  base,  unworthy  son, 
The  spurious  offspring  of  a  captive  mother, 
Who  hath  betray'd  and  slain  his  best-loved  Ajax, 
To  gain  his  fair  possessions  after  death  ? 
Thus  will  his  wrath,  sharpen'd  by  peevish  age, 
Upbraid  me,  guiltless  ;  and  to  slavery  doom'd, 
A  wretched  exhile  from  his  native  land, 
Shall  Teucer  wander  forth  :  such  dreadful  ills 
Must  I  expect  at  home.     At  Troy,  my  foes 
Are  numerous;  and  my  friends,  alas !  how  few  ! 
Thou  art  the  cause  of  all :  for,  O,  my  Ajax  ! 
What  shall  I  do?  How  can  I  save  thee  now 
From  this  sad  fate  ?  O  !  who  could  have  forseen 
That  Hector,  long  since  dead,  at  last  should  prove 


945 


950 


955 


960 


965 


The  murderer  of  Ajax  ?  By  the  gods 
I  do  beseech  you  mark  the  fate  of  both  : 
The  belt,  which  Ajax  did  to  Hector  give, 
Dragged  the  brave  Trojan  o'er  the  bloody  field, 
Till  he  expired  ;  and  now,  behold !  the  sword. 
Which  Hector  gave  to  Ajax,  is  the  cause 
Of  Ajax'  death  :  Erinnys'  self  did  forge 
The  fatal  steel,  and  Pluto  made  the  belt, 
Dreadful  artificer  !     But  this,  and  all 
That  happens  to  us,  is  the  work  of  Heaven  : 
If  there  be  those  who  doubt  it,  lei  them  hold 
Their  differing  judgments  ;  I  shall  keep  my  own. 

Cho.  Teucer,  no  more  ;  but  rather  now  prepare 
To  bury  Ajax,  and  defend  thyself 
Against  thy  foe,  whom  yonder  I  behold 
This  way  advancing,  with  malignant  smile,  975 

And  looks  of  ill-intent. 

Teu.  Who  can  it  be  ? 

From  the  army,  think'st  thou  ? 

Cho.  'Tis  the  man  whose  cause 


970 


38 


SOPHOCLES. 


AJAX.— ACT   IV. 


39 


i 


We  came  to  fight,  ev'n  Menelaus. 

Teu.  'Tis  so: 

And  he  approaches  nigh,  I  know  him  well. 

MENELAUS,  TEUCER,  CHORUS. 

Men.  Stop  there  ;  to  thee  I  speak  :  lei  go  the  body  ; 
I  will  not  have  it  touched. 

Teu.  Why  touch  it  not  ?        981 

Men.  Because  it  is  my  will,  and  his  who  leads 
The  Grecian  host. 

Teu.  But  wherefore  is  it  so  ? 

Men.  Greece  fondly  hoped  that  she  had  brought  a 
friend 
And  firm  ally,  but  by  experience  found  985 

That  Troy  herself  was  not  so  much  our  foe 
As  Ajax  was,  who  nightly  wanderM  forth 
With  deadliest  rage  to  murder  all  our  host ; 
And,  but  some  god  did  frustrate  his  Intent, 
The  fate  himself  hath  met,  had  been  our  own :        990 
Then  had  he  triumphed  ;  but  the  gods  ordain'd 
It  should  not  be,  and  'gainst  the  flocks  and  herds 
Turn'd  all  his  fury  :  wherefore,  know,  their  lives  not 
A  man  of  courage  or  of  power  sufficient 
To  bury  Ajax :  on  the  yellow  shore  995 

He  shall  be  cast,  to  be  the  food  of  birds 
That  wander  there.     Thou  mayst  resent  it  too, 
But  'twill  be  vain ;  at  least,  we  Will  command 
When  dead,  whom  living  we  could  ne'er  subdue, 
Nor  ask  thy  leave  :  he  never  would  submit,  1000 

But  now  he'must :  yield,  therefore,  or  we  force  thee. 
Tis  the  plebeian's  duty  to  obey 
The  voice  of  those  who  bear  authority, 
And  he  who  doth  not  is  the  worst  of  men  ; 
For  never  can  the  state  support  1005 

By  wholesome  laws,  where  there  is  no  submission. 
An  army's  best  defence  is  modest  fear 


1015 


1020 


1025 


And  reverence  of  its  leaders  ;  without  these, 

It  cannot  conquer:  it  becomes  a  man, 

How  great  soe'er  his  strength,  still  to  remember,  1010 

A  little,  very  little,  may  destroy  him. 

He,  who  is  guarded  by  humility 

And  conscious  shame,  alone  in  safety  lies  ; 

But  where  licentious  freedom  and  reproach 

Injurious  reign,  each  as  his  will  directs 

Still  acting  ;— know,  that  city  soon  must  fall 

From  all  its  bliss,  and  sink  in  deepest  wo. 

Remember,  then,  respect  is  due  to  me. 

Let  us  not  think,  when  pleasure  is  enjoy  d, 

We  must  not  sulTer  too  and  taste  of  pain  ; 

For  these  to  mortals  still  alternate  rise. 

There  lived  not  one  so  proud  and  arrogant 

As  Ajax  was  :  I  will  be  haughty  now  ; 

It  is  my  turn  :  take  heed  then,  touch  him  not, 

Lest,  while  thou  strivest  to  bury  him,  thyself 

Shouldst  drop  into  the  tomb. 
Q^Q  O  Menelaus ! 

Do  not,  with  maxims  grave,  and  wisdom's  rules. 
Mix  foul  reproach  and  slander  on  the  dead. 

Teu.  It  should  not  move  our  wonder,  O  my  *"ena . 
To  see  the  vulgar  err,  of  meaner  souls,  i^*^ 

And  birth  obscure,  when  men  so  nobly  born 
Will  talk  thus  basely.    Tell  me,  Menelaus ! 
(For  'twas  thy  first  assertion,)  didst  thou  bring 
Our  Ajax  here  to  help  the  Grecian  host. 
Or  came  he  hither  by  himself  alone  l^*^"^ 

Conducted  ?  Whence  is  thy  command  o'er  him, 
Or  these  his  followers?  Who  gave  thee  power? 
Who  gave  thee  right  ?  Thou  mayst  be  Sparta  s  king, 
But  art  not  ours  :  Ajax  was  bound  by  law 
No  more  to  thee,  than  thou  wert  bound  to  Ajax ;  104U 
Thyself  no  general,  but  to  others  here 
Subjected,  therefore  lord  it  where  thou  mayst ; 


40 


SOPHOCLES. 


AJAX. — ACT   IV. 


41 


i 


Command  thy  slaves  ;  go  threaten  and  chastise  ihem 

But  I  will  bury  Ajax,  spite  of  thee 

And  of  thy  brother,  for  I  heed  thee  not.  1045 

He  sail'd  not  here  to  quarrel  for  the  wife 

Of  Menelaus,  like  a  hireling  slave, 

But  to  fulfil  the  strictly-binding  oath 

Which  he  had  sworn  ;  he  did  not  conae  for  thee, 

For  he  depised  so  poor  a  cause  ;  he  came  1050 

With  all  his  heralds,  and  a  numerous  train. 

And  brought  his  captains  too  ;  remember  therefore 

Thy  clamors  ne'er  shall  turn  me  from  my  purpose 

Whilst  thou  art  what  thou  art. 

Men,  a  tongue  like  thine 

But  ill  becomes  thy  state :  'tis  most  unseemly.      1055 

Teu.  a  keen  reproach,  with  justice  on  its  side, 
Is  always  grating. 

Men.  This  proud  archer  here 

Talks  loudlv, 

Teu.  *Tis  no  mean,  illiberal  art. 

Men,  If  thou  couldst  bear  a  shield,  how  insolent 
And  haughty  wouldst  thou  be,  when  naked  thus,  1060 
Thou  boast'st  thy  valor  ! 

Teu.  Naked  as  I  am, 

I  should  not  fly  from  thee  with  all  thy  arms. 

Men.  Thy  tongue  bat  speaks  thy  pride, 

Teu.  I  should  be  proud 

When  I  am  just. 

Men.  Doth  justice  bid  me  love 

1048  Tyndarus,  the  father  of  Helen,  obliged  all  his  daugh- 
ter's lovers  to  take  an  oath,  that  on  which  of  them  soever  the 
lot  should  fall  to  marry  her,  the  rest  should  unite  in  his  de- 
fence, and,  in  case  of  any  attempt  to  carry  her  off,  should  join 
their  forces  to  recover  her.  Teucer,  therefore,  tells  Menelaus 
that  it  was  not  any  personal  regard  to  him  which  induced 
Ajax  to  join  the  army,  but  his  resolution  to  fulfil  this  solemn 
engagement. 

1057  Homer,  whom  Sophocles  never  loses  sight  of,  de- 
scribes  Teucer  as  a  skilful  archer. 


1070 


Him  who  destroyed  me  ? 

rji^u.  And  art  thou  then  destroy  d  ? 

That's  strange,  indeed  ;  living  and  dead  at  once.  1066 

Men.  For  him  I   had   been  so :  the  gods  preserved 

me.  . 

Teu.  Do  not  dishonor  then  the  powers  divme 

That  saved  thee. 

Men.  Do  I  violate  their  laws  ? 

Teu.  If  thou  forbid'st  the  burial  of  the  dead, 
Thou  dost  oflTend  the  gods. 

Men.  He  was  my  foe, 

And  therefore  I  forbid  it. 

Xeu.  Art  thou  sure 

That  Ajax  ever  was  thy  foe  ? 

Men.  I  am : 

Our  hate  was  mutual,  and  thou  know'st  the  cause. 

Teu.  Because  thou  wert  corrupted,  thy  false  voice 

Condemned  him.  . 

Men.  'Twas  the  judges'  fault,  not  mine.  10/6 

Teu.  Thus  mayst  thou  screen  a  thousand  injuries. 
Men.  Some  one  may  suffer  for  this  insolence. 
Tbu.  Not  more,  perhaps,  than  others. 

Men.  'r^*^  ^*^°® 

Remember,  buried  he  shall  never  be.  1080 

Teu.  Do  thou  remember,  too,  I  say  he  shall. 

Men.   So  have  seen  a  bold  imperious  man. 
With  forward  tongue,  before  the  storm  began, 
Urging  the  tardy  mariner  to  sail ; 
But  when  the  tempest  rose,  no  more  was  heard    1085 
The  coward's  voice,  but  wrapp'd  beneath  his  cloak, 
Silent  he  laid,  and  suffered  every  foot 
To  trample  on  him  :  thus  it  is  with  thee, 

1075  It  is  said  that  in  the  famous  contest  between  Ajax 
and  Ulysses  for  the  arms  of  AchiUes,  the  former  lost  them 
by  the  casting  vote  of  Menelaus. 


K 


42 


SOPHOCLES. 


And  thy  foul  tongue  ;  forth  from  a  little  cloud. 

Soon  as  the  storm  shall  burst,  it  will  o'erwhelm  thee, 

And  stop  thy  clamors. 

Teu.  I  too  have  beheld  1091 

A  man,  with  folly  swoln,  reproach  his  friends 
Oppressed  with  sore  calamity,  when  straight 
One  came  liice  me,  with  indignation  fired  ; 
Saw,  and    address'd  him  thus  :~*  Cease,  shameless 
wretch !  1095 

Nor  thus  oppress  the  dead  ;  for,  if  thou  dost, 
Remember,  thou  shalt  suffer  for  thy  crime.' 
Thus  spake  he  to  the  weak,  insulting  fool : 
Methinks  I  see  him  here  ;  it  must  be  he, 
Ev*n  Menelaus :  have  I  guessM  aright?  1100 

Men.  'Tis  well ;  I'll  leave  thee  :  'tis  a  folly  thus 

To  talk  with  those  whom  we  have  power  to  punish. 

[Exit. 

TEUCER,   CHORUS. 

Teu.  Away  !  this  babbler  is  not  to  be  borne. 

Cho.  The  contest  will  grow  warm.  OTeucer!  haste, 
Prepare  some  hollow  foss  for  the  remains  1 105 

Of  Ajax :  raise  him  there  a  monument. 
By  after  ages  ne'er  to  be  forgotten. 

Teu.  And,  lo  !  in  happy  hour  this  way  advancing 
The  wife  and  son  of  our  unhappy  friend, 
To  pay  due  honors,  and  adorn  his  tomb,  11 10 

.TECMESSA,   EURYSACES,    TEUCER,   CHORUS. 

Teu.  Come  hither,  boy  !  bend  down,  and  touch  thy 
father : 
There  sit ;  and  holding  in  thy  hands  this  hair, 
And  hers,  and  thine,  the  suppliant's  humble  treasure. 
Offer  thy  pious  prayers  for  thy  dead  father. 
If  from  yon  hostile  camp  the  foe  should  come         1115 
To  drive  thee  hence,  far  from  his  native  land, 


AJAX.— ACT  IV. 


43 


1125 


1130 


Whoe'er  he  be,  unburied  may  he  lie, 

From  his  whole  race  uprooted,  torn  away,' 

Ev'n  as  this  hair  which  here  I  cut  before  thee. 

O  !  guard  it  well,  my  child !  and  you,  my  friends  ! 

Behave  like  men,  assist,  protect  him  now,  1 121 

Till  1  return  ;  and,  spite  of  all  our  foes, 

Perform  the  rites,  and  raise  a  tomb  to  Ajax, 

TECMESSA,  EURYSACES,  CHORUS. 
CHORUS. — STROPHE   I. 

When  will  the  happy  hour  appear, 

That  comes  to  calm  our  every  fear. 
From  endless  toil  to  bring  us  sweet  repose. 

To  bid  our  weary  wanderings  cease, 

To  fold  us  in  the  arms  of  peace, 
\nd  put  the  wish'd-for  period  of  our  woes',? 
For  since  the  day  when  first  to  Troy  we  came, 
Naught  have  we  known  but  grief,  reproach,  and  shame. 

ANTISTROPHE   I. 

O  !  that  the  man,  who  erst,  inspired 
With  horrid  rage,  our  Grecians  fired 
To  slaughterous  deeds,    and  taught  them    first    to 

E'er  he  had  learn'd  the  dreadful  trade,        1 135 
Himself  had  mingled  with  the  dead. 
Or  scatter'd  wide  in  air,  or  sunk  in  endless  night! 
For,  O !  from  war  unnumber'd  evils  flow. 
The  inexhausted  source  of  every  human  wo. 

STROPHE   II. 

By  war  disturb'd,  the  genial  board 
No  longer  will  its  sweets  afford ; 
Their  fragrant  odors,  round  my  head. 
The  verdant  wreaths  no  longer  spread ; 
Nor  music's  charms  my  soul  delight, 
Nor  love  with  rapture  crowns  the  night. 


1140 


1145 


44 


SOPHOCLES. 


No  love,  alas !  for  me,   but  grief  and  care  : 

For  when  I  think  of  Troy,  I  still  dispair, 

And  wet  with  many  a  tear  my  wild  dishevell'd  hair. 

ANTISTROPHE   II. 

Nor  nightly  fear,  nor  hostile  dart, 

Whilst  Ajax  lived,  appall'd  my  heart ;  1 150 

But  all  our  pleasures  now  are  o'er  ; 

The  valiant  Ajax  is  no  more. 

O  !  could  I  climb  the  woody  steep 

That  hangs  incumbent  o'er  the  deep, 
From  Sunium's  cliflf  by  waves  for  ever  beat !  1 155 

Thence  should  my  eye  the  lovely  prospect  greet, 
And  smile  on  sacred  Athens  rising  at  my  feet. 

ACT  V. 


i! 


TEUCER,   AGAMEMNON,   CHORUS. 

Teu.  This  way  I  bent  my  hasty  steps,  to  meet 
The  Grecian  chief,  who  hither  comes  prepared 
To  vent  his  keen  reproaches. 

Aga.  I  am  told,  1 160 

That  thou,  ev*n  thou,  the  son  of  a  vile  slave, 
Hast  dared  to  utter  foulest  calumny 
Against  thy  prince,  and  pass'd  unpunish'd  for  it. 
Mean  as  thy  birth  is,  what  had  been  thy  pride 
And  high  demeanor,  had  thy  mother  sprung  1165 

From  noble  blood  ?  Barbarian  as  thou  art, 
How  couldst  thou  praise  a  wretch,  who,  like  thyself, 
Was  nothing  ?  We,  it  seems,  (for  thou  bast  sworn  it,) 
Are  not  the  masters  or  of  Greece  or  thee : 
Ajax,  alone,  thou  say'st,  was  leader  here.  1 170 

Shall  we  be  thus  insulted  by  our  slaves  ? 
Who  is  this  boaster?  and  what  mighty  deed 
Hath  he  performed,  which  I  could  not  have  done  ? 


AJAX. — act  v. 


45 


Is  there  no  hero  in  the  Grecian  host 

But  Ajax?  Vain  indeed  were  our  resolves  1175 

In  the  warm  contest  for  Achilles'  arms, 

If  Teucer  yet  shall  question  the  decree 

Against  the  general  voice  ;  resisting  still, 

And  still  reproachful,  with  delusive  arts, 

Though  conquer'd,  yet  opposing  :  wholesome  laws 

Will  naught  avail,  if  those,  whom  j  us^ice  deems     118 1 

Superior,  to  the  vanquish'd  must  resign, 

And  first  in  virtue  be  the  last  in  fan#. 

It  must  not  be  :  not  always  the  huge  size 

Of  weighty  limbs  insures  the  victory  ;  1 185 

They  who  excel  in  wisdom  are  alone 

Invincible.    Thou  seest  the  brawny  ox. 

How  the  small  whip  will  drive  him  through  the  field  : 

What  if  the  medicine  be  applied  to  thee, 

For  thy  proud,  boasting,  and  licentious  tongue  !     IHO 

'Twill  be  thy  portion  soon,  unless  thou  learn'st 

More  wisdom.     Henceforth,  mindful  what  thou  art, 

Bring  with  thee  one  of  nobler  blood  to  plead 

Thy  cause  ;  for  know,  the  language  which  thou  talk'st 

Is  barbarous,  and  I  understand  thee  not.  1195 

Cho.  I  can  but  wish  that  wisdom  may  attend 
To  guide  you  both. 

Teu.  Alas  !  how  very  soon 

Are  all  the  merits  of  the  dead  forgotten ! 

O  Ajax  !  is  the  memory  of  thee 

Already  lost,  ev'n  by  the  man  for  whom  1200 

Thy  life  so  oft  was  ventured  in  the  field? 

But  now  'tis  past,  and  buried  in  oblivion. 

Thou  wordy  slanderer!  canst  thou  not  remember. 

When,  baftled  and  unequal  to  the  foe, 

Close  pent  within  the  walls  our  forces  lay  ; —         1205 

Canst  thou  not  call  to  mind,  who  came  alone 

To  your  deliverence,  when  devouring  flames 


h 


t  ii 


46 


SOPHOCLES. 


AJAX. — ACT    V. 


47 


Tower'd  o*er  our  ships ;  when  Hector  leap'd  the  foss, 

And  rush*d  amongst  us?  Then,  who  fought  for  Greece, 

Who  drove  him  back,  but  Ajax?  who,  thou  say*st. 

Could  never  fight,  did  he  not  fight  for  you  ?  121 1 

He  met  the  noble  Hector  hand  to  hand  ; 

Unbidden  dared  the  fortune  of  the  field  ; 

He  scorn'd  the  coward's  art  to  fix  his  lot 

In  the  moist  earth  ;  forth  from  the  crested  hehnet  121/> 

It  sprang  the  first :  such  were  the  deeds  of  Ajax, 

And  I  was  witnefc  of  them  ;  I,  the  slave, 

For  so  thou  call'st  me,  sprung  from  a  barbarian. 

How  dares  a  wretch  like  thee  to  talk  of  birtlj  ? 

Who  was  thy  grandsire?  Canst  thou  not  remember 

That  old  barbarian,  Phrygian  Pclops  ?  Tell  me,    1221 

Who  was  thy  father  ?    Atreus,  was  he  not  ? 

That  worst  of  men,  who  at  a  brothers'  table, 

Served  up  his  children,  horrible  repast ! 

Thy  mother  too  a  Cretan,  and  a  slave  ; 

A  vile  adultress,  whom  thy  father  caught. 

And  headlong  cast  into  the  sea.     Shalt  thou 

Talk  then  to  me  of  birth  ?  to  me,  the  son 

Of  valiant  Telamon,  renown'd  in  war. 

And  wedded  to  a  queen,  the  royal  race  1230 

Of  great  Laomedon,  and  fairest  gift 

Of  famed  Alcides  ?    Thus  of  noble  blood 

From  either  parent  sprung,  shall  I  disgrace 

The  man,  whom  thou,  inhuman  !  wouldst  still  keep 

Unburied  here  ?  Dost  thou  not  blush  to  think  on't  ? 

But,  mark  me  well ;  if  thou  dost  cast  him  forth,    1236 

Not  he  alone  inglorious  on  the  plain 

Shall  lie  ;  together  we  will  perish  all  : 

To  die  with  glory  in  a  brother's  cause, 

Is  better  far  than  fighting  for  the  wife  1240 

Of  Agamemnon  or  of  Menelaus : 

For  thy  own  sake,  and  not  for  mine  remember, 


If  thou'provoke  me,  thoa'lt  be  sorry  for  it, 

And  wish  thou  'dst  rather  fear'd  than  anger'd  Teucer. 

ULYSSES,  AGAMEMNON,   MENELAUS,   TEUCER,   CHORUS  . 

Cho.  Ulysses,  if  thou  meanest  not  to  inllame,    1215 
But  to  compose  this  dreadful  strife,  thou  comest  ^ 
In  happiest  hour. 

Ulys.  Far  off  I  heard  the  voice 

Of  the  Atridaeo'er  this  wretched  corse. 
Whence  rose  the  clamor,  friends  ? 

Men.  With  bitterest  words 

This  Teucer  here,  Ulysses,  has  reviled  me.  1250 

Ulys.  What  words?  for  if  he  heard  the  same  from 
thee, 
I  blame  him  not. 

Aga.  He  did  provoke  me  to  it. 

Ulys.  What  injury  hath  he  done  thee  ? 

Aga.  H®  declares 

The  body  shall  have  sepulture  ;  himself 
Perforce  will  bury  Ajax,  spite  of  me, 
And  of  my  power. 

Ulys.  Shall  I  be  free,  and  speak 

The  truth  to  thee,  without  reproach  or  blame  ? 

Aga.  Thou   mayst;    for  well  thou    kuow'st  I 
Ulysses, 
Of  all  the  Greeks,  my  best  and  dearest  friend. 

Ulys.  Then  hear  me:  by  the  gods,  I  must  intreat  ihee, 


1255 


hold 


Do  not,  remorseless  and  inhuman  cast 
The  body  foith  unburied,  nor.  permit 
Authority  to  trample  thus  on  justice. 
E'er  since  our  contest  for  Achilles'  arms, 
Hath  Ajax  been  my  foe,  and  yet  I  scorn 
To  use  him  basely :  ev'n  Ulysses  owns, 
Of  all  the  Grecian  chiefs  who  came  to  Troy, 
Except  Achilles,  Ajax  was  the  bravest. 
Do  not  deny  him  then  the  honors  due 


1261 


1265 


48 


SOPHOCLES. 


AJAX. — ACT    V. 


49 


To  worth  so  great ;  for  know,  it  were  a  crime,      1270 

Not  against  him  alone,  but  'gainst  the  gods  ; 

A  violation  of  the  laws  divine. 

To  hurt  the  brave  and  virtuous  after  death, 

Ev'n  though  he  lived  thy  foe,  is  infamous. 

Aga,  Plead  \st  thou  for  Ajax  ? 

Ulys.  Yes  ;  I  was  liis  foe  1275 

Whilst  justice  would  permit  me;  but  he*s  dead  : 
Therefore  thou'shouldst  not  triumph,  nor  rejoice 
With  mirth  unseemly,  o'er  a  vanquish'd  man. 

Aga.  'Tis  not  so  easy  for  a  king  to  act 
By  honor's  strictest  rule, 

Ulys.  'Tis  always  so,  1280 

To  hearken  to  the  counsels  of  a  friend. 
When  he  advises  well. 

Aga.  But  know,  the  good 

And  virtuous  still  submit  to  those  who  rule. 

Ulys.  No  more :  when  thou  art   vanquish'd  by  thy 
friends, 
Thou  art  thyself  the  conqueror. 

Aga.  Still  remember     1285 

For  whom  thou  plead'st,  Ulysses  ! 

Ulys.  For  a  foe, 

But  for  a  brave  one. 

Aga.  Dost  thou  thus  revere, 

Ev'n  after  death,  thy  enemy  ? 

Ulys.  I  do : 

Virtue  is  dearer  to  me  than  revenge.  1289 

Aga.  Such  men  are  most  unstable  in  their  ways. 

Ulys.  Our  dearest  friend  may  one  day  be  our  foe. 

Aga.  Dost  thou  desire  such  friends  ? 

Ulys.  I  cannot  love 

Or  praise  the  unfeeling  heart. 

Aga.  This  day  shall  Greece 

Mark  us  for  cowards, 

Ulys.  Greece  will  call  as  just. 


Aga.  Wouldst  thou  persuade  me  then  to  grant  him 
burial  ?  ^295 

Ulys.  I  would,  and  for  that  purpose  came  I  hither. 
Aga.  How  every  man  consults  his  own  advantage, 

And  acts  but  for  himself ! 

Ui^YS.  And  who  is  he 

Whom  I  should  wish  to  serve  before  Ulysses  ? 

Aga.  'Tis  thy  own  work,  remember,  and  not  mine. 

Ulys.  The  deed  will  win  thee  praise,  and  every 
tongue  1301 

Shall  call  thee  good. 

Aga.  Thou  know'st  I'd  not  refuse 

Ulysses  more,  much  more  than  this  ;  but  Ajax, 
Or  buried  or  unburied,  is  the  same. 
And  must  be  hateful  still  to  Agamemnon  :  1305 

But  do  as  it  beseems  thee  best. 

Cho.  Ulysses  ! 

The  man  who  says  thou  art  not  wise  and  good. 
Is  senseless  and  unjust. 

Ulys.  I  tell  thee,  Teucer, 

Henceforth  I  am  as  much  the  friend  of  Ajax, 
As  once  I  was  his  foe  ;  ev'n  now  I  mean  1310 

To  join  with  thee,  a  fellow-laborer 
In  all  the  pious  offices  of  love ; 
Nor  would  omit,  what  every  man  should  pay. 
The  honors  due  to  each  exhalted  virtue.  1314 

Teu.  O  best  of  men  !  thou  hast  my  thanks  and  praise, 
And  well  deservest  them,  for  thou  hast  transcended 
My  utmost  hopes.     I  little  thought  the  worst 
Of  all  his  foes  among  the  Grecian  host 
Would  thus  alone  defend,  alone  protect 
The  dead  from  insult,  when  these  thundering  leaders 
United  came,  to  cast  his  body  forth  1321 

With  infamy  :  but  may  the  god,  who  rules 
O'er  high  Olympus,  and  the  vengeful  Furies 

SOPH.  D 


50 


SOPHOCLES. 


1 


Daughters  of  Jove  the  guilt- rewarding  sisters, 

With  all-deciding  justice,  soon  repay  1335 

The  haughty  tyrants  ;  for  thy  offer'd  aid, 

Son  of  Laertes,  in  the  funeral  rites, — 

Perhaps  it  might  offend  the  honor'd  shade 

Of  our  dead  friend  ;  it  cannot  be  accepted. 

For  all  beside  we  thank  thee  :  if  thou  wilt'st         1330 

To  send  assistance  from  the  Grecian  camp, 

'Twill  be  received  ;  the  rest  shall  be  my  care. 

Thou  hast  performed  the  duty  of  a  frien'd. 

And  we  acknowlege  it. 

Ulys.  I  would  have  lent 

My  willing  aid  ;  but  since  it  must  not  be,  1335 


I  shall  submit :  farewell. 


[Exit  Ulysses. 


AGAMEMNON,     MENEAULS,     TEUCER,     EURYSACES, 

CHORUS. 

Teu.  Thus  far  is  right : 

The  time  already  past  doth  chide  our  sloth. 
My  friends,  be  vigilant :  let  some  prepare 
The  hollow  foss  ;  some  o'er  the  sacred  flame 
Place  the  rich  tripod  for  the  funeral  bath  :  1340 

Forth  from  the  camp  a  chosen  band  must  bear 
His  glittering  arms,  and  trophies  of  the  war. 
Do  thou,  my  child,  if  thou  hast  strength,  uplift 

[To  Eurysaces. 
Thy  father's  body  :  see,  the  veins,  yet  warm. 
Spout  forth  with  blood.     Haste,  help,  assist  me,  all 
Who  bear  the  name  of  friends,  and  pay  with  me  1346 
Your  last  sad  duties  to  the  noble  Ajax; 
For  never  was  on  earth  a  better  man. 

Cho.  Whate'er  of  good  or  ill  weak  mortals  know, 
Must  from  their  best  of  guides,  experience,  flow.  1350 
Seek  then  no  farther  :  for  to  man  is  given 
The  present  state  ;  the  future  left  to  Heaven, 


E  L  E  C   T  R  A 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

Electra,  daughter  of  Agamemnon  and  Clytemnestra. 

Orestes,  brother  of  Electra. 

Pylades,  friend  of  Orestes. 

GovERXOR  of  Orestes- 

Clytemnestra,  wife  of  ^Egisthus. 

Chrysothemis,  sister  of  Electra. 

^GiSTHUS,  king  of  Argos  ana  iviycense. 

Chorus,  composed  of  the  principal  ladies  of  Mycense. 


ELECTRA. 


ARGUMENT. 

After  Agamemnon  had  been  assassinated  by  his  wife  Cly- 
temnestra and  her  paramour  ^gisthus,  Orestes,  then  an  in- 
fant was  preserved  from  a  participation  in  the  same  fate 
by  his  sister  Electra,  who  privately  conveyed  him  to  the 
court  of  Strophius,  king  of  Phocis,  who  treated  him  with  the 
utmost  kindness,  and  educated  him  with  his  son  Pylades, 
with  whom  he  contracted  an  indissoluble  friendship.  On 
attaining  years  of  maturity,  Orestes,  together  with  his  com- 
panion, visited  the  city  of  Mycense  in  disguise,  and,  by  the 
assistance  of  his  governor,  deluded  the  adulterous  pair  into 
a  fatal  security,  by  a  report  which  he  propagated  of  his 
death.      Having  at   length   discovered    himself   to  Electra. 

.  who  willingly  co-operated  with  him  in  the  prosecution  of 
his  revenge,  he  slew  his  mother  during  the  absence  of  the 
tyrant,  who,  on  his  return,  received  the  just  punishment  of 
his  atrocious  guilt. 


ACT    I. 

Scene,  Mycenae,  before  the  palace  of  JEgisthns. 

ORESTES,   PYLADES,   GOVERNOR   OF   ORESTES. 

Gov.  O  SOX  of  great  Alrides,  he  who  led 
Embattled  Greece  to  Troy*s  devoted  walls  ; 
At  length  behold  what  thy  desiring  eyes 
So  long  have  sought ;  behold  thy  native  soil, 
Thy  much-loved  Argos,  and  the  hallow'd  grove 
Of  lo,  frantic  maid  :  on  this  side  lies 

6  lo,  the  daughter  of  Inachus,  who  was  transformed  into  a 


^i 


54 


ELECTRA. — ACT   I. 


55 


SOPHOCLES. 


10 


15 


20 


The  Lycian  forum ;  on  the  left,  the  fane 
Of  Juno  far  renown'd  :  behold  !  we  come 
To  rich  Mycenae,  and  the  slaughterous  house 
Of  Pelop's  hapless  race,  from  whose  sad  walls 
Long  since  I  bore  thee,  at  thy  sister's  hand 
Gladly  received,  and  with  paternal  care 
To  this  bless'd  day  have  foster'd  up  thy  youth, 
Till  riper  years  should  give  thee  to  return, 
And  pay  with  dire  revenge  thy  father's  murder. 
Now,  my  Orestes  !  and  thou  dear  companion 
Of  all  our  sufferings,  much-loved  Pylades  ! 
Let  deepest  counsel  sway  our  just  resolves  ; 
For,  lo  !  resplendent  Phoebus,  with  his  light. 
Calls  up  the  cheerful  birds  to  early  song, 
And  gloomy  Night  hath  lost  her  starry  train  : 
Come  then ;  my  friends,  and  ere  the  awakenM  city 

Pours  forth  her  busy  throngs,  this  instant  here 

Let  us  consult :  believe  me,  'tis  no  time 

For  full  delay ;  'tis  the  decisive  hour,  35 

And  this  the  very  crisis  of  our  fate. 

Ores.  What  proofs  thou  givest  me  of  the  noblest 
nature 

And  true  benevolence,  thou  good  old  man  ! 

Of  servants  sure  the  faithfulest  and  best 

That  ever  bore  the  name.    The  generous  steed,        30 

Though  worn  with  years,  thus  keeps  his  wonted  cou- 
rage. 

And  warns  his  master  of  approaching  danger  : 

Like  him,  thou  stirr'st  me  up  to  noble  deeds. 

And  follow'st  me  undaunted  j  and,  if  I  err, 

Let  thy  superior  judgment  set  me  right. 

When  to  the  Delphic  oracle  I  flew, 


35 


heifer  by  Jupiter,  to  conceal  her  from  the  rage  of  Juno,  who 
discovered  and  placed  her  under  the  guardianship  of  Argus. 
7  A  place  sacred  to  Apollo. 


40 


45 


50 


Eager  to  know  how  on  my  father's  foes 
I  best  might  satiate  my  revenge,  the  god 
Enjoin'd  me  not  by  force,  or  open  arms, 
To  rush  upon  them  !  but  with  guileful  arts, 
And  silent,  well  conducted  fraud,  betray  them. 
Such  was  his  will :  thou,  therefore,  soon  as  time 
Shall  lend  thee  opportunity,  unknown 
And  unsuspected  (as  thy  absence  hence 
For  so  long  space,  and  hoary  age  shall  make  thee) 
Must  steal  upon  them,  learn  their  secret  counsels, 
As  soon  thou  mayst,  and  quick  inform  us  of  them; 
Say  thou'rt  of  Phocis,  from  Phanoteus  sent 
By  one  who  is  their  friend  and  firm  ally  : 
Say,  and  confirm  it  with  a  solemn  oath, 
Orestes  is  no  more,  by  a  rude  shock 
Thrown  from  his  chariot  at  the  Pythian  games  ; 
Be  this  thy  tale.     Meantime  (for  thus  the  god 
His  will  divine  express'd)  my  father's  tomb 
.With  due  libations  and  devoted  hair 
Ourselves  will  crown  ;  and  thence  returning,  bring. 
From  the  dark  covert  where  thou  know'st  'twas  hid, 
The  brazen  urn  ;  there,  we  shall  tell  the  tyrant. 
Thrice  welcome  news !  Orestes'  ashes  lie. 
What  should  deter  me  from  the  pious  fraud. 
Since  my  feign'd  death  but  gains  me  real  fame, 
And  I  shall  wake  to  better  life  ?  the  deed. 
Which  brings  success  and  honor,  must  be  good. 
Oftimes  the  wisest  and  the  best  of  men. 
From  death  like  this,  have  rose  with  added  greatness  ; 
Ev'n  so^thy  friend  to  his  deluded  foes 
Shall  soon  return  unlook'd-for,  and  before  them 
Shine  like  a  star  with  more  distinguished  lustre. 

49  Phanoteus  was  a  small  town  of  Phocis,  a  city  of  Greece, 
famous  for  the  oracle  of  Delphos  :  according  to  Strabo,  it  was 
formerly  called  Panope* 


55 


60 


65 


56 


SOPHOCLES. 


ELECtRA. — ACT    I. 


57 


ll 


I 


O  my  loved  country,  and  its  guardian  gods  !  70 

Receive  Orestes,  and  with  happy  omen 

Propitious  smile  ;  and  thou  paternal  seat! 

For,  lo  !  by  Heaven's  command  I  come  to  purge  thee, 

Of  vile  usurpers,  and  avenge  thy  wrong. 

Drive  me  not  from  thee  an  abandon'd  exile  75 

With  infamy,  but  grant  me  to  possess 

My  father's  throne,  and  fix  his  injured  race. 

Thus  far  'tis  well :  my  faithful  minister! 

Thou  to  thy  office,  we  to  ours  with  speed  ; 

So  time  and  opportunity  require,  80 

On  whom  the  fate  of  mortals  must  depend. 

Elec.  [from  within.]  O  misery  ! 

Gov.  Methought  a  mournful  voice 

Spake  from  within. 

Ores.  Perhaps  the  poor  Electra  : 
Shall  we  not  stay  and  hearken  to  it? 

Gov.  No: 

First  be  Apollo's  great  behests  obey'd  85 

Before  thy  father's  tomb ;  that  pious  deed 
Performed  shall  fire  our  souls  with  nobler  warmth. 
And  crown  our  bold  attempt  with  fair  success.  [Exeunt' 


electra. 

0  sacred  light !  and,  O,  thou  ambient  air  ! 
Oft  have  ye  heard  Electra's  loud  laments, 

Her  sighs  and  groans,  and  witness'd  to  her  woes, 
Which  ever,  as  each  hateful  morn  appear'd, 

1  pour'd  before  you  ;  what  at  eve  retired 
I  felt  of  anguish,  my  sad  couch  alone 

Can  tell,  which,  water'd  nightly  with  my  tears, 
Received  me  sorrowing  :  that  best  can  tell 
What  pangs  I  suffer'd  for  a  hapless  father. 
Whom  not  the  god  of  war  with  ruthless  hand 
Struck  nobly  fighting  in  a  distant  soil ; 


90 


95 


But  my  fell  mother,  and  the  cursed  ^gisthus,         100 

The  partner  of  her  bed,  remorseless  slew. 

Untimely  didst  thou  fall,  lamented  shade  ! 

And  none  but  poor  Electra  mourns  thy  fate  ; 

Nor  shall  she  cease  to  mourn  thee,  while  these  eyes 

View  the  fair  heavens,  or  behold  the  sun;  105 

Never,  O  !  never  like  the  nightingale, 

Whose  plaintive  song  bewails  her  ravish'd  brood  ; 

Here  will  I  still  lament  my  father's  wrongs. 

And  teach  the  echo  to  repeat  my  moan. 

O  ye  infernal  Deities  !  and  thou,  110 

Terrestrial  Hermes !  and  thou,  Nemesis, 

Replete  with  curses  !  and  ye  vengeful  Furies  ! 

Offspring  of  gods,  the  ministers  of  wrath 

To  vile  adulterers,  who  with  pity  view 

The  slaughtered  innocent,  behold  this  deed.  115 

O  !  come,  assist,  revenge  my  father's  murder ; 

Quickly,  O  !  quickly  bring  me  my  Orestes  ; 

F6r,  lo  !  1  sink  beneath  oppressive  wo, 

And  can  no  longer  bear  the  weight  alone.        ! 

CHORUS,    electra. 

Cho.  O  wretched  daughter  of  an  impious  mother  ! 
Wilt  thou  for  ever  mourn  ;  for  ever  thus,  121 

With  unavailing  tears  and  endless  sorrow, 
Lament  the  royal  Agamemnon's  fate, 
By  a  vile  woman's  wicked  arts  betray'd  ? 
Perish  the  hand  (forgive  the  pious  curse,  125 

Ye  heavenly  powers  !)  that  gave  the  deadly  blow ! 

Elec.  My  noble  friends,  and  partners  in  affliction, 

106  Philomela,  the  daughter  of  Pandion,  and  sister  of 
Procne,  the  wife  of  Tereus.  The  poet,  both  in  this  and  the 
following  scene,  takes  the  nightingale  for  Procne ;  as  it  was 
Procne,  and  not  Philomela,  who  served  up  her  son  Itys  to 
Tereus,  in  revenge  for  the  injury  done  to  her  sister.  Ms- 
chylus,  Euripides,  and  Aristophanes  also,  suppose  Procne  to 
have  been  changed  into  a  nightingale. 


58 


SOPHOCLES. 


130 


140 


Who  thus,  to  soothe  my  sorrows,  kindly  try 
Each  art  which  love  and  friendship  can  inspire  ; 
Ye  come  to  comfort  me,  I  know  ye  do  ; 
I  know  my  tears  are  fruitless  all  and  vain ; 
But,  O  !  permit  me  to  indulge  my  griefs, 

For  I  must  weep. 
Cho^  Thy  tears  can  ne'er  recall  him 

From  the  dark  mansions  of  the  common  grave, 

No,  nor  thy  prayers  ;  they  can  but  make  thee  wretched. 

And  sink  thee  deeper  in  calamity  :  136 

Why  art  thou  then  so  fond  of  misery  ? 

Elec.  Devoid  of  sense  and  feeiinj?  is  the  heart 

That  can  forget  an  injured  parent's  wrongs. 

I  love  the  airy  messenger  of  Jove  ; 

The  mournful  bird  that  weeps  her  Itys'  fate, 

And  every  night  repeats  the  tender  tale  ; 

Thee  too  I  reverence  as  a  goddess,  thee, 

Unhappy  Niobe  !  for  still  thou  weep'st, 

And  from  the  marble  tears  eternal  How. 
Cho.  But,  O  !  reflect  that  not  to  thee  alone 

Misfortune  comes,  that  comes  to  all :  behold 

Iphianassa  and  Chrysothemis, 

And  him  who  hides  his  grief,  illustrious  youth, 

The  loved  Orestes ;  these  have  suffered  too. 
Elec.  Orestes  !  yes,  Mycenae  shall  receive 

In  happy  hour  her  great  avenger  ;  Jove 

With  smiles  auspicious  shall  conduct  him  to  me. 

For  him  alone  I  wait ;  for  him,  a  wretch 

Despised,  of  children  and  of  nuptial  rites 

Hopeless  I  wander  ;  he  remembers  not 

What  I  have  done  for  him,  what  suffered  ;  still 
140  Procne,  called  the  messenger  of  Jove,  from  ushering  in 

the  spring.    See  the  note  on  Philomela.  ^  ^   ^ 

144  Niobe,  the  daughter  of  Tantalus,  and  queen  of  Thebes  J 

feigned  by  the  poets  to  be  turned  into  stone,  after  the  death 

of  her  children. 
148  The  sisters  of  Electra. 


145 


150 


155 


ELECTRA. — ACT  I. 


59 


160 


165 


With  airy  promises  he  mocks  my  hopes, 
And  yet  he  comes  not  to  me. 

Cho.  ■'^"^  '^^  ^ 

Despair  not,  daughter  ;  Jove  is  yet  in  heaven. 
The  god  who  sees,  and  knows,  and  governs  all  : 
Patient  to  him  submit,  nor  let  thy  rage 
Too  far  transport  thee,  nor  oblivion  drown 
The  just  remembrance  of  thy  matchless  woes. 
Time  is  a  kind,  indulgent  deity, 
And  he  shall  give  thee  succor;  he  shall  send 
The  god  of  Acheron,  from  Chrysa's  shores 
To  bring  Orestes,  and  avenge  thy  wrongs. 

Elec.  O  !  but  the  while  how  much  of  life  is  gone  !^ 
And  I,  a  hopeless,  wretched  orphan  still,  170 

Without  a  friend  to  guard  or  to  protect  me ; 
Disgraced,  dishonor'd,  like  a  stranger  clad 
In  base  attire,  and  fed  with  homeliest  fare ! 

Cho.  Sad  news  indeed  the  hapless  messenger 

To  Argos  brought,  that  spoke  the  wish'd  return 

Of  thy  loved  father  to  his  native  soil ; 

Fatal  the  night  when  Agamemnon  fell 

Or  by  a  mortal  or  immortal  hand  ; 

The  work  of  fraud  and  lust,  a  horrid  deed ! 

Whoe'er  perform'd  it. 
gLg^.^  O  detested  feast ! 

O  day,  the  bitterest  sure  that  ever  rose  ! 
With  him  I  perish 'd  then  ;  but  may  the  gods 
Repay  the  murderers  ;  never  may  they  hear 
The  voice  of  joy,  or  taste  of  comfort  more. 

Cho.  Cease  thy  complaints :  already  hast  thou  suf- 
fered ^^ 

167  Chrysa  was  a  town  of  Phocis,  of  which  Strophius,  the 
father  of  Pylades,  was  king.  This  was  the  place  where 
Orestes  was  privately  educated,  and  accounts  for  the  cele- 
brated friendship  of  the  two  princes. 


175 


180 


60 


SOPHOCLES. 


ELECTRA.— ACT   I. 


61 


For  thy  loud  discontents  and  threatened  vengeance. 

'Tis  folly  to  contend  with  power  superior. 

Elec.  Folly,  indeed,  and  madness  !  but  my  griefs 

Will  force  their  way  ;  and  whilst  Electra  breathes 

She  must  lament ;  for  who  will  bring  me  comfort,  190 

Or  soothe  my  sorraws  ?     Let  me,  let  me  go, 

And  weep  for  ever. 

qho,  'Tis  my  love  intreats  ; 

Trust  me,  I  feel  a  mother's  fondness  for  thee, 
And  fain  would  save  thee  from  redoubled  woes. 

Elec.  And  wouldst  thou  have  me  then  neglect  the 
dead  ?  .  ^^^ 

Forget  my  father?  Can  there  be  such  guilt? 
When  I  do  so,  may  infamy  pursue  me  ; 
And,  if  I  wed,  may  all  the  joys  of  love 
Be  far  removed  !  if  vengeance  doth  not  fall 
On  crimes  like  these,  for  ever,  farewell,  justice  !     200 
Shame,  honor,  truth,  and  piety,  farewell ! 

Cho.  Pardon  me,  daughter  !  if  my  warmth  offend, 
Glad  I  submit ;  we'll  follow,  and  obey  thee. 

Elec.  I  am  myself  to  blame,  and  blush  to  think 
How  much  unfit  I  seem  to  bear  the  weight 
Imposed  upon  me  ;  but  indeed  His  great. 
Forgive  me,  friends  ?  a  woman  born  as  I  am,— 
Must  she  not  grieve  to  see  each  added  minute 
Fraught  with  new  miseries  ?  thus  to  be  a  slave 
E'en  in  my  father's  house,  and  from  those  hands 
Which  shed  his  blood  to  ask  the  means  of  life  ? 
Think  what  my  soul  must  suffer  to  behold 
The  cursed  ^gisthus  seated  on  the  throne 
Of  Agamemnon,  in  the  very  robes 
Which  once  were  his  !  to  see  the  tyrant  pour 
Libations  forth  ev'n  on  the  fatal  spot 

193  The  Chorus  is  composed  of  the  principal  matrons  of 
rank  and  quality  in  Mycense. 


206 


210 


215 


Where  the  sad  deed  was  done  !  but  worst  of  all, 

To  see  the  murderer  usurp  his  bed, 

Embrace  my  mother,  (by  that  honor'd  name 

If  I  may  call  a  guilty  wretch  like  her,)  220 

Who,  pleased,  returns  his  love,  and  of  her  crimes 

Unconscious,  smiles,  nor  fears  the  avenging  Furies ; 

But  ever,  as  the  bloody  day  returns 

Which  gave  the  royal  victim  to  her  wiles, 

Annual  the  dance  and  choral  song  proclaim  225 

A  solemn  feast ;  nor  impious  sacrifice 

Forgets  she  then  to  her  protecting  gods, 

Shock'd  at  the  cruel  banquet,  I  retire, 

And  in  some  corner  hide  my  griefs,  denied 

Ev'n  the  sad  comfort  to  indulge  my  sorrows  ;  230 

For  Clytemnestra,  in  opprobrious  terms. 

Reviles  me  oft: — '  To  thee  alone,'  she  cries, 

*  Is  Agamemnon  lost,  detested  maid? 

Think'st  thou  Electra  only  weeps  his  fate? 

Perdition  on  thee!  May  the  infernal  gods  235 

Refuse  thee  succor,  and  protract  thy  pains  !* 

Thus  rails  she  bitter  ;  and  if  chance  she  hear 

Orestes  is  approaching,  stung  with  rage, 

Wild  she  exclaims, — '  Thou  art  the  accursed  cause  ; 

This  is  thy  deed,  who  stole  Orestes  from  me,  240 

And  hid  him  from  my  rage  ;  but  be  assured, 

Ere  long  my  vengeance  shall  o'ertake  thee  for  it  !* 

These  threats  her  noble  lord  still  urges  on  ; 

That  vile  adulterer,  that  abandoned  coward. 

Whose  fearful  soul  call'd  in  a  woman's  aid  245 

To  execute  his  bloody  purposes. 

Meantime,  Electra  sighs  for  her  Orestes, 

Her  wish'd  avenger ;  his  unkind  delay 

Destroys  my  hopes.    Alas  !  my  gentle  friends, 

Who  can  bear  this,  and  ktep  an  equal  mind  ?  250 

To  suffer  ills  like  mine,  and  not  to  err 


g2  SOPHOCLES. 

From  wild  distraction,  would  be  strange  indeed  ! 

Cho.  But  say,  Electra!  is  the  tyrant  near. 
Or  may  we  speak  our  thoughts  unblamed  .^^^^  ^^^^^ 

I  had  not  else  beyond  the  palace  dared 

To  wander  hither.  ...  <  <a  *i,o<. . 

fZ„  I  would  fain  have  ask  d  thee 

Elec    Ask  what  thou  wilt,  ^gisthus  is  far  off. 
CHO   Ming  thy  brother,  then  ;  inform  me  qu.ck 
If  aught  thou  know'st  that  merits  firm  belief. 

ELEC.  He  promises,  but  comes  not^.^     ^^  ^^^^^^ 

Cho.  261 

Require  deliberation  and  delay. 

Elec.  O  !  but  did  I  delay  to  save  Orestes  ? 

Cho.  He  boasts  a  noble  nature,  and  will  ne  er 
Forget  his  friends :  be  confident.  ^  ^^  ^ 

Elec.  ,  ...  ofif, 

Were  I  not  so,  I  had  not  lived  till  now.  ^^^> 

Cho.  But  soft ;  behold  the  fair  Chrysothemis 
Advance  this  way,  and  in  her  hand  she  bears 
Sepulchral  offerings  to  the  shades  below. 

CHRYSOTHEMIS,   ELECTRA,   CHORUS. 

Chry.  Still  my  Electra  pouring  forth  thy  griefs  ? 
Are  thou  not  yet  by  sad  experience  taught 
How  little  they  avail?    I  too  must  feel 
And  could  resent,  as,  were  thy  sister^  power 
But  equal  to  her  will,  our  foes  should  know 
Meantime  with  lower'd  sail  to  bear  the  storm 
Befits  us  best,  nor,  helpless  as  we  are. 
With  idle  hopes  to  meditate  revenge. 

268   The  sepulchral  offerings  ^-e  me:nti^^^^^^^ 

rally  honey.  -"^^«^V  "^he  'ghot  pro^^^^^^^^^  weJe  poured  on 

fh"1?old'or"grte."^^^^      toWr  with  a  certain  form 
of  words,  offered  to  the  deceased. 


ELECTRA. — ACT   I. 


63 


275 


Yield  then  with  me  ;  and,  though  impartial  justice 
Plead  on  thy  side,  remember,  if  we  prize 
Or  life  or  liberty,  we  must  obey. 

Elec.  It  ill  becomes   great  Agamemnon's  daughter 
Thus  to  forget  her  noble  father's  worth.  281 

And  take  a  base  unworthy  mother's  part ; 
For  well  I  see  from  whom  thy  counsels  flow  ; 
Naught  from  thyself  thou  say'st  but  all  from  her: 
Either  thy  reason's  lost,  or  if  thou  hast  it,  285 

Thou  hast  forgot  thy  friends,  who  should  be  dear 
And  precious  to  thee  :  if  thy  boasted  hate 
Against  our  foes,  and  what  thou  vaunt'st  to  do, 
If  thou  hadst  power,  I  reck  not:  whilst  with  me 
Thou  wilt  not  join  in  great  revenge,  but  still  290 

Dissuadest  me  from  it.     Is't  not  cowardly 
To  leave  me  thus  ?  Tell  me,  I  beg  thee,  tell  me. 
What  mighty  gain  awaits  my  tame  submission, 
Should  I  supress  my  griefs  :  I  can  but  live ; 
Tliat  I  do  now  a  wretched  life  indeed  !  295 

But  'tis  enough  for  me,  and  I  am  happy. 
Whilst  I  can  torture  them,  and  to  the  dead 
Pay  grateful  honors,  if  to  them  such  care 
Aught  grateful  can  bestow.     Thy  hate,  I  fear  me. 
Is  but  in  word  :  thou  dost  befriend  the  murderers.  300 
For  me,  not  all  the  wealth  they  could  bestow, 
Not  all  the  gifts  which  they  have  pour'd  on  thee. 
Should  bind  me  to  them  :  take  thy  costly  banquets, 
And  let  thy  days  with  ease  and  pleasure  flow  : 
Give  me  but  food  and  I  am  satisfied.  305 

I  wish  not  for  thy  honors  ;  nor  wouldst  thou, 
If  thou  wert  wise,  receive  them  at  their  hands. 
Thou  mightst  been  daughter  to  the  best  of  fathers, 
And  art  thy  mother's  only ;  take  that  name ; 
And  henceforth  all  shall  mark  thee  as  a  wretch,     310 
Who  hath  betray'd  her  father  and  her  friends. 

Cho.  I  do  intreat  you,  let  not  anger  come 


1 


64 


SOPHOCLES. 


ELECTRA. — ACT   I. 


65 


Between  you  thus  ;  you  both  have  reasonM  well, 
And  much  of  mutual  benefit  may  flow,  ^^^ 

Tf  pach  to  other  lend  a  patient  ear. 
Chry    Custom,  my  noble  friends!  bath  made  re- 

proach 
Familiar  to  me ;  and  so  well  I  know 
Hear  haughty  mind,  I  had  been  silent  still, 
But  that  I  saw  the  danger  imminent, 
And  came  to  warn  her  of  the  fatal  stroke,  320 

Which  Toon  must  end  her  and  her  griefs  together 

Elec    Tell  me  this  mighty  danger  :  if  aught  more 
It  threaten  than  Electra  long  hath  borne, 
I  ,ield  me  to  thy  counsels.  ^^^^  ^^  ,,,„  , 

KnoTtbou  art  doom'd,  unless  thou  dost  refrain     325 
Thy  clamorous  griefs,  far  from  the  light  of  day, 
And  this  thy  native  soil,  within  a  cell 
Dismal  and  dark  to  spend  the  poor  remains 
Of  thy  sad  life,  and  there  lament  thy  fate. 

Elec.  Is  it  decreed  ?  Must  it  in  truth  be  so? 

Chry.  Soon  as  ^gisthus  shall  return,  it  must. 

Elec.  Quick   let   him    come :  I  long    to    see 

here. 
Chry    Alas  !  what  imprecations  these  T 
Elec  *  Would  he  were  present,  if  for  this  he  comes ! 
Chry.   What!  to  destroy    thee?  is  thy  mmd  dis- 

turb'd  ?  ^        ^1       •  t.4. 

Elec  That  I  might  fly  for  ever  from  thy  sight. 
Chry    Wilt  thou  not  think  how  to  preserve  thy  lile . 
Elec*  Mine  is  a  blessed  life  indeed  to  think  of! 
Chry.  It  might  be  blessed,  if  thou  wouldst  have  it 

ELEc'^Teach  me  not  basely  to  betray  i?^y/"ends. 
Chry.  I  do  not ;  all  I  ask  thee  is  to  yield  341 

To  powers  superior. 
£^tc.  Fawn  on  them  thyself; 


330 
him 


Thou  dost  not  know  Electra. 

Chry.  Sure,  it  better 

Deserves  the  name  of  wisdom  to  avoid 
Than  hasten  thy  destruction. 

JElec.  No  ;  to  die  345 

Were  pleasure,  could  I  but  avenge  my  father. 

Chry.  Our  father,  doubt  it  not,  will  pardon  thee. 

Elec.  'Tis  mean  to  think  so. 

Chry.  Wilt  thou  not  consent  ? 

Elec  Never,  O  !  never,  be  my  soul  so  weak. 

Chry.  Then  to  my  errand  :  fare  thee  well. 

Elec  To  whom,  350 

Chrysothemis  !  and  whither  dost  thou  bear 
Those  sacred  offerings  ? 

Chry.  To  our  father's  tomb, 

From  Clytemnestra. 

Elec  To  the  man  she  hated  ? 

The  man,  my  sister — 

Chry.  Whom  she  kill'd,  I  know. 

Thou  wouldst  say. 

Elec  Why,  what  should  move  her  to  it  ?   355 

Chry.  If  I  mistake  not,  horrors  late  impress'd, 

Prom  a  sad  vision. 

Elec  O  my  country's  gods  ! 

Succor  me  now ! 

Chry.  What  hopes  dost  thou  conceive 

From  this  P 

Elec  The  dream  :  and  I  will  tell  thee  all. 

Chry.  I  know  but  little  of  it. 

Elec  Tell  me  that:        360 

Ofttimes  to  words,  how  few  soe'er  they  be, 
Is  given  the  power  to  save  or  to  destroy. 

Chry.    Once  more  to  light  return'd,  (so  fame  re- 
ports) 
Before  her  our  loved  father  did  appear, 

SOPH.  B 


66 


SOPHOCLES. 


370 


375 


380 


The  royal  sceptre  wielded  in  his  hand,  365 

Which  now  ^Egisthus  bears  ;  whence  seemM  to  spring 
A  green  and  leafy  branch,  whose  wide  extent 
O'er  all  Mycenae  spread  its  verdant  shade  : 
This  did  I  learn,  and  this  alone,  from  one 
Who  listened  long  attentive,  while  she  told 
Her  vision  to  the  Sun  ;  hence  all  her  fears, 
And  hence  my  destined  journey. 

Elec.  By  the  gods 

Let  me  conjure  thee,  hear  me  ;  if  thou  dost  not, 
Too  late  shalt  thou  repent,  when  for  thy  guilt 
Evil  o'ertake  thee.    O  Chrysothemis  ! 
Never,  I  beg  thee,  to  our  father's  tomb 
Bear  thou  those  offerings  ;  'twere  a  horrid  deed, 
From  such  a  woman  ;  give  them  to  the  winds, 
Let  them  be  hid,  deep  buried  in  the  sands. 
And  not  the  smallest  grain  escape,  to  reach 
That  hallow'd  place  ;  let  them  remain  for  her. 
Safe  in  the  earth  till  she  shall  meet  them  there. 
None  but  this  shameless,  this  abandon'd  woman, 
Would  e'er  with  impious  offerings  thus  adorn 
The  tomb  of  him  she  murder'd  :  by  the  dead 
Think'st  thou  such  gifts  can  be  with  joy  received  ? 
Gifts  from  that  hand,  which  from  his  mangled  corse 
Severed  his  lifeless  limbs,  and  on  the  head 
Of  the  poor  victim  wiped  her  bloody  sword. 
Madness,  to  think  that  offerings  and  ablutions        390 
Could  purge  such  crimes,  or  wash  her  stains  away  ! 
Never,  O  !  never  :  but  of  this  no  more. 
Instant,  my  sister !  thy  devoted  hair, 

871  It  was  customary  among  the  ancients,  when  they  had 
been  terrified  by  bad  dreams,  to  open  their  windows  in  the 
morning,  and  relate  their  dreams  to  the  Sun,  who,  they  ima- 
gined, as  he  had  power  to  dispel  the  darkness,  could  also  turn 
aside  all  the  evils  which  the  preceding  night  had  threatened 
them  with. 


385 


ELECTRA.-— ACT   I. 


67 


With  these  dishevell'd  locks,  and  this  my  zone, 

Plain  as  it  is,  and  unadorn'd,  shalt  thou  *      395 

Bear  to  our  father  :  wretched  offerings  these. 

But,  O  !  'tis  all  Electra  now  can  give. 

Bear  them,  and  suppliant  on  thy  knees  implore  him 

10  smile  propitious,  and  assist  his  children. 

Fray  for  Orestes  too,  that  soon  with  power  400 

He  may  return,  and  trample  on  our  foes  • 

So  shall  a  fairer  tribute  one  day  grace 

His  honor'd  tomb,  than  now  we  can  bestow. 

Trust  me,  my  sister !  we  are  still  his  care,-^ 

I  know  we  are  ;  from  him  the  vision  came,  405 

The  horrid  dream,  that  shook  her  guilty  soul. 

Now  then,  I  beg  thee,  be  a  friend  to  me  ; 

Be  to  thyself  a  friend,  a  friend  to  him. 

Of  all  mankind  the  dearest,  our  dead  father. 

Cho.  Well  doth  the  pious  virgin  speak,  and  thou 
Must  yield  to  her  requests. 

„,^"'*^-  And  so  I  will.  411 

Where  reason  dictates,  strife  should  never  come: 
But,  quick,  despatch,  fulfil  her  just  commands; 
Yet,  O  my  friend  .'  remember,  our  attempt 
is  full  of  danger,  and  let  naugh  escape  4I6 

1  hat  may  betray  me  to  my  cruel  mother! 
For,  if  it  reach  her  ear,  this  daring  act, 
I  fear  me  much,  shall  one  day  cost  us  dear. 

^Exit  Chrysothemis. 
CHORUS. 

STROPHE. 

Or  my  prophetic  mind  is  now  no  more 

Attentive  as  of  old  to  wisdom's  lore,  420 

Or  justice  comes,  with  speedy  vengeance  fraught : 

Behold  !  the  goddess  arm'd  with  power  appears ; 

It  must  be  so  by  Clytemnestra's  fears, 
And  the  dire  dream  that  on  her  fancy  wrought. 


es 


SOPHOCLES. 


425 


Thy  father,  not  unmindful  of  his  fate, 
ShAll  hither  come,  his  wrongs  to  vindicate ; 

And,  in  his  gore  imbrued, 
The  fatal  axe  with  him  shall  rise, 
Shall  ask  another  sacrifice. 
And  drink  with  him  the  cruel  tyrant's  blood.  430 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Lo!  with  unnumber'd  hands,  and  countless  feet, 
The  fury  comes,  her  destined  prey  to  meet : 

Deep  in  the  covert  hid,  she  glides  unseen, 

Hangs  o'er  the  trembling  murderer's  head, 

Or  steals  to  the  adulterous  bed,  435 

An  awful  witness  of  the'guilty  scene. 

Doubtless,  the  dream,  with  all  its  terrors,  meant, 
For  crimes  like  these,  some  dreadful  punishment. 

If  mortals  aught  from  mighty  visions  know; 

If  truth  from  great  Apollo's  shrine  440 

Appear  in  oracles  divine. 
Presaging  bliss  to  come,  or  threatening  future  wo. 

EPODE. 

O  Pelops  !  to  thy  country  and  to  thee 

The  fatal  course  brought  wo  and  misery  ; 
For  since  the  time  when  from  his  chariot  thrown,  445 

For  thee  the  guilty  wreath  to  gain, 

The  hapless  Myrtilus  was  slain. 
Naught  as  thy  wretched  race  but  grief  and  sorrow 
known. 

446  CEnomaushad  a  beautiful  daughter,  named  Hippodamia. 
whom  he  refused  to  give  in  marriage,  because  the  oracle  de- 
dared  that  a  son-in-law  would  be  fatal  to  him;  he  promised, 
however,  to    bestow    his  daughter  on  any  man  who    should 
conquer   him   in  the  chariot-race,  on  condition  that  all   wha 
were  vanquished  by  him  should  be  put  to  death:  many  boll 
adventurers  accepted  the  terms,  and  perished  in  the  attempt : 
the   horses  of  CEuomaus  were  swift  as  the  wind,  and  conse- 
quently invincible.     These  examples,  however,  did  not  deter 
Pelops,   who  entered  the  lists  against  (Enomaus,  and  bribed 


ELECTRA. — ACT    II. 


A  C  T  11. 


69 


CLYTF.MNESTRA,   ELECTRA,   CHORUS. 

Cly.  yEciSTHUs  absent,  who  alone  could  curb 

Thy  haughty  spirit,  and  licentious  tongue. 

At  large,  it  seems,  thou  rovest,  and  unrestrained,     450 

No  difference  paid  to  my  authority  ; 

But  on  thy  mother  ever  pouring  forth 

Bitter  invectives,  while  the  listening  crowd 

Are  taught  to  hold  me  proud,  and  fierce  of  soul ; 

A  lawless  tyrant,  slandering  thee  and  thine.  455 

I  am  no  slanderer  ;  I  abhor  the  name ; 

But  oft  reviled,  of  force  I  must  reply. 

And  send  my  foul  reproaches  back  upon  thee. 

Thou  say'st  I  slew  thy  father ;  that  alone  460 

Is  left  to  plead  for  all  thy  insolence. 

I  do  confess  the  deed,  and  glory  in  it. 

I  slew  thy  father;  yet  not  I  alone; 

I  had  the  hand  of  justice  to  assist  me. 

And  should  have  had  Electra's  :  well  thou  know'st. 

That  cruel  father,  for  whom  thus  thy  tears  465 

Incessant  flow,  that  father  slew  his  child. 

He — he  alone,  of  all  the  Grecian  host 

Gave  up  his  daughter — horrid  sacrifice ! 

his  charioteer,  Myrtilus,  with  a  promise  of  half  his  king- 
dom, if  he  succeeded.  Myrtilus  listened  to  his  offers,  and 
purposely  forgot  to  put  the  pins  into  the  wheels  of  his  mas- 
ter s  chariot,  which  broke  in  pieces  in  the  middle  of  the 
course.  Pelops  espoused  Hippodamia,  but  afterwards,  in- 
stead of  performing  his  promise  to  Myrtilus,  chose  rather  to 
get  rid  of  this  instrument  of  treachery  by  throwing  him  into 
the  sea.  Mercury,  who,  it  seems,  was  the  father  of  Myrtilus, 
revenged  the  murder  of  his  son,  by  entailing  curses  on  Pelops 
and  all  his  posterity.  It  appears  by  this  that  the  heathens 
believed  that  God  punished  the  crimes  of  fathers  on  their 
children,  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 


I 


70 


SOPHOCLES. 


ELECTRA. — ACT   II. 


71 


To  the  offended  gods  ;  he  never  felt 

A  mother's  pangs,  and  therefore  thought  not  of  them  ; 

Or  if  he  did,  why  slay  the  innocent  ?  471 

For  Greece,  thou  tell'st  me  :  Greece  could  never  claim 

A  right  to  what  was  mine :  or  did  she  fall 

For  Menelaus?  he  had  children  too  : 

Why  might  not  they  have  died  ?  Their  parents*  guil^, 

Source  of  the  war,  more  justly  have  deserved  it.      476 

Or  think'st  thou  death  with  keener  appetite 

Could  feast  on  mine,  and  Helen's  not  afford 

As  sweet  a  banquet  ?  Why  was  ail  the  love 

To  me  and  to  my  child  ;  so  justly  due,  480 

With  lavish  hand  bestow'd  on  Menelaus  ? 

Was  he  not  then  a  base,  inhuman  father  ? 

He  was  ;  and  so,  could  Iphigenia  speak, 

Thy  breathless  sister,  she  too  would  declare. 

Know,  then,  I  grieve  not ;  shame  or  penitence        485 

I  feel  not  for  the  deed  ;  and  if  to  thee 

It  seems  so  heinous,  weigh  each  circumstance ; 

Remember  what  he  did,  and  lay  the  blame 

On  him,  who  well  deserved  the  fate  he  suffered. 

Elec.  Thou  hast  no  plea  for  bitterness  like  this  : 
Thou  canst  not  say  that  I  provoked  thee  to  it.        491 
I  have  been  silent :  had  I  leave  to  speak, 
I  could  defend  an  injured  father's  cause. 
And  tell  thee  wherefore  Iphigenia  fell. 

Cly.  I  do  permit  thee;  and  if  modest  thus  495 

Thou  hast  address'd  me  always,  thy  free  speech 
Had  ne'er  offended. 

Elec.  Hast  thou  not  confess'd 

That  thou  didst  slay  my  father?  Whether  Justice 
Approve  or  not,  'twas  horrid  to  confess  it : 
But  Justice  never  could  persuade  thee  :  no,  500 

I  '11  tell  thee  who  it  was  :  it  was  JEgisthus, 
The  wretch  with  whom  thou  livest.  Go,  ask  the  goddess, 


The  immortal  huntress,  why  the  winds  were  stayed 

So  long  at  Aulis  ;  but  thou  must  not  ask 

The  chaste  Diana  ;  take  it  then  from  me.  505 

My  father  once,  as,  for  the  chase  prepared. 

Careless  he  wander'd  through  her  sacred  grove, 

Forth  from  its  covert  roused  a  spotted  hind 

Of  fairest  form,  with  towering  antlers  graced, 

Pursued,  and  slew  her  :  of  the  Deity  510 

Something,  with  pride  elate,  he  utter'd  then 

Disdainful :  quick  resenting  the  affront, 

Latona's  daughter  stay'd  the  Grecian  lleet. 

Nor  would  forgive,  till  for  her  slaughter'd  beast 

The  offending  father  sacrificed  his  child.  515 

Thus  Iphigenia  fell ;  and  but  for  her, 

Greece  ne'er  had  seen,  or  Ilion's  lofty  towers. 

Or  her  own  native  soil ;  the  father  strove 

In  vain  to  save  ;   and  not  for  Menelaus 

He  gave  her  up  at  last,  but  for  his  country.  520 

Suppose  a  brother's  fondness  had  prevail'd. 

And  she  was  given  for  him  ;  would  that  excuse 

Thy  horrid  deed  ?  what  law  required  it  of  thee  P 

That  law  alone,  by  which  thyself  must  fall ; 

If  blood  for  blood  be  due,  thy  doom  is  fix'd.  525 

Plead  not  so  poorly  then  ;  but  tell  me  why 

Thou  livest  adulterous  thus  with  a  vile  ruffian, 

Thy  base  assistant?     Why  are  those,  who  sprung 

From  thy  first  nuptials,  cast  unkindly  forth. 

For  his  new  race  ?    Was  this  thy  piety  ?  530 

Was  this  too  to  revenge  thy  daughter's  death  ? 

In  pure  revenge  to  wed  her  deadliest  foe, 

Was  noble,  was  it  not  ?  but  I  forget. 

You  are  my  mother,  so  it  seems  you  say, 

And  I  must  hold  my  peace  ;  but  I  deny  it :  535 

I  say  you  are  my  mistress,  not  my  mother ; 

A  cruel  mistress  that  aflicts  my  soul. 


I' 


72 


SOPHOCLES. 


ELECTllA.  —ACT   II. 


73 


And  make  tliis  weary  life  a  burden  to  me. 

Orestes  too,  the  hapless  fugitive, 

Who  once  escaped  thy  fatal  hand,  now  drags         540 

A  loathsome  being :  him,  thou  say'st,  I  look'd  for 

To  join  in  my  revenge,  and  so  I  did  ; 

I  would  have  been  revenged,  I  tell  thee  so. 

Say,  I  am  base,  malicious,  impudent, 

Abusive,  what  thou  wilt ;  for  if  I  am,  545 

It  speaks  my  birth,  and  I  resemble  thee. 

CTho.  Resentment  deep  hath  fired  the  virgin's  breast ; 
Whether  with  truth  and  justice  on  her  side 
Slie  speak,  I  know  not. 

Cly.  Can  they  plead  for  her? 

W^hat  care,  what  love,  or  tenderness  is  due  650 

To  an  abandon'd  child,  who  shameless,  thus 
Reviles  a  parent  ?  Is  there,  after  this, 
A  crime  in  nature  she  would  blush  to  act  P 

Elec.  I  am  not  base,  nor  shameless,  as  thou  calPst 
me ; 
For  know,  e*en  now  I  blush  for  what  is  past,  555 

Indecent  warmth,  and  words  that  ill  become 
My  tender  years  and  virgin  modesty  : 
But  'twas  thy  guilt,  thy  malice,  urged  me  to  it. 
From  bad  examples  bad  alone  we  learn  ; 
I  only  err'd  because  I  follow'd  thee.  560 

Cly.  Impudent  wretch  !  and  am  I  then  the  cause 
Of  all  thy  clamorous  insolence  ? 

Elec.  Thou  art : 

Foul  is  thy  speecli,  because  thy  deed  was  foul ; 
For  words  from  actions  flow. 

Cly.  By  chaste  Diana, 

Soon  as  ^gisthus  comes,  thy  boldness  meets  565 

Its  just  reward. 

Elec.  Is  this  thy  promised  leave, 

§0  lately  granted,  freely  to  unfold, 


What  now,  incensed,  thou  dost  refuse  to  hear? 

Cly.  Have  I  not  heard  thee  ;  and,  in  base  return. 
With  luckless  omen  dost  thou  now  retard  570 

My  pious  sacrifice  ? 

Elec.  O  !  far  from  me 

Be  guilt  like  that ;  perform  it,  I  beseech  thee  : 
In  holy  silence  shall  these  lips  be  closed, 
And  not  a  word  escape  to  thwart  thy  purpose. 

Cly.  [speaking  to  one  of  her  attendants J\ 
Hither  do  thou  the  sacred  offerings  bring,  575 

Of  various  fruits  composed,  that  to  the  god. 
Whose  altars  we  adorn,  my  fervent  prayer 
May  rise  accepted,  and  dispel  my  fears. 
Hear  then,  Apollo,  great  protector  !  hear 
My  secret  vows,  for  with  no  friendly  ear  [softly.']  580 
My  voice  is  heard  ;  her  malice  would  betray. 
Should  I  unveil  my  heart,  each  word  I  utter' d. 
And  scatter  idle  rumors  through  the  crowd. 
Thus  then  accept  my  prayers,  Lycean  Phoebus  !  [aloud^ 
If  in  the  doubtful  visions  of  the  night,  585 

Which  broke  my  slumbers,  aught  presaging  good 
Thou  seest,  propitious,  O  !  confirm  it  all: 
But  if  of  dire  portent,  and  fraught  with  ill,    ' 
To  me  and  mine  they  came,  avert  the  omen, 
And  send  the  evil  back  upon  my  foes  !  590 

O  !  if  there  are,  whose  fraudful  arts  conspire 
To  cast  me  forth  from  all  my  present  bliss. 
Let  them  not  prosper,  but  protect  me  still. 
Grant  me  to  live  and  reign  in  quiet  here. 
To  spend  each  happy  hour  with  those  I  love  ;  595 

With  those  my  children,  who  have  ne'er  oflFended 
By  malice,  pride,  and  bitterness  of  soul: 
Grant  this,  indulgent  Phoebus  !  What  remains 

596   Iphianassa  and  Chrysothemis,   who  had  not  aflfronted 
her,  in  opposition  to  Electra,  who  had. 
698  Most  probably  the  death  of  Orestes  and  Electra,  which 


•V 


74 


SOPHOCLfiS. 


EtECTRA. — ACT   II. 


75 


Unask'd,  thou  seest ;  for  naught  escapes  the  eye 

Of  gods;  such  knowledge  have  the  sons  of  Jove.    600 

GOVERNOR     OF     ORESTES,   CLYTEMNESTRA,     ELECTRA, 

CHORUS. 

Gov.  Is  this  the  royal  palace  of  ^gisthus  ? 

Cho.  Stranger,  it  is. 

Gov.  And  this  (for  such  her  form 

And  look  majestic  speak  her)  is  his  queen  ; 
Is  it  not  so  P 

Cno.  It  is. 

Gov.  Great  sovereign,  hail ! 

With  joyful  news  I  come,  and  from  a  friend,  605 

To  thee,  and  to  ^Egisthus. 

Cly.  Stranger,  welcome ! 

Say,  first,  from  whom  thy  message  P 

Gov,  From  Phanoleus  ; 

A  Phocian  sends  thee  things  of  utmost  moment. 

Cly.  Of  moment,  say 'st  thou?  what!  impart  them 
quick  ! 
Of  friendly  import,  if  from  thence  they  come,  610 

I  know  they  must  be. 

Gov.  Briefly  then,  'tis  this  ; 

Orestes  is  no  more. 

Elec.  •    Undone  Electra  ! 

Now  am  I  lost  indeed. 

Cly.  What  say'st  thou  ?  speak  ! 

Regard  not  her ;  go  on. 

Gov.  I  say  again, 

Orestes  is  no  more. 

Elec.  Then  what  am  I  ?  615 

I  too  am  nothing. 

Cly.  [to  Electra.]  Get  thee  hence  !  away  ! 

she  did  not  dare  to  mention  in  the  presence  of  her  daughter. 
Clytemnestra's  character  is  finely  drawn ;  her  very  prayers 
we  see  are  wicked,  and  agreeable  to  her  actions. 


l)isturb  us  not.    Most  welcome  messenger ! 

[to  the  Governor, 
Go  on,  I  beg  thee  ;  let  me  hear  it  all ; 

Say  how  he  died  ;  tell  every  circumstance. 

Gov.  For  that  I  came,  and  I  will  tell  thee  all.     620 

Know,  then,  Orestes,  at  the  Pythian  games, 

Eager  for  glory,  met  assembled  Greece. 

Soon  as  the  herald's  far-resounding  voice 

Proclaimed  the  course,  the  graceful  youth  appeared, 

And  was  by  all  admired  :  successful  soon  625 

He  reach'd  the  gaol,  and  bore  his  prize  away. 

Ne'er  did  these  eyes  behold  such  feats  perform'd 

By  mortal  strength  ;  in  every  course  superior, 

He  rose  victorious  :  theme  of  every  tongue 

Was  the  brave  Argive,  great  Atrides'  son,  630 

Who  led  the  Grecian  host ;  but,  O  !  in  vain 

Doth  human  valor  strive  when  power  divine 

Pursues  vindictive  :  the  succeeding  morn 

Uprose  the  sun,  and  with  him  all  the  train 

or  youthful  rivals  in  the  chariot-race  ;  635 

One  from  Achaia,  one  from  Sparta  came ; 

Of  Afric's  sons  advanced  a  noble  pair, 

And  join'd  the  throng :  with  these,  Orestes  drove 

His  swift  Thessalian  steeds  ;  ^tolia  next. 

For  yellow  coursers  famed  ;  and  next  Magnesia  ;   640 

And  Athens,  built  by  hands  divine,  sent  forth 

Her  skilful  charioteer  ;  an  ^nian  next 

Drove  his  white  horses  through  the  field  ;  and  last 

A  brave  Boeotian  closed  the  warrior  train. 

And  now,  in  order  ranged,  as  each  by  lot  645 

Determined  stood,  forth  at  the  trumpet's  sound 

They  rush'd  together,  shook  their  glittering  reins. 

And  lash'd  their  foaming  coursers  o'er  the  plain. 

Loud  was  the  din  of  rattling  cars,  involved 

In  dusty  clouds ;  close  on  each  other  pressed  650 


'i:l 


76 


SOPHOCLES. 


The  rival  youths,  together  stopp'd,  and  turn'd 

Together  all.     The  hapless  JEnian  first, 

His  fiery  steeds,  impatient  of  subjection, 

Entangled  on  the  Libyan  chariot  hung. 

Confusion  soon  and  terror  througli  the  crowd  655 

Disastrous  spread  ;  the  jarring  axles  rung  ; 

Wheel  within  wheel  now  crack'd,  till  Chrysa's  field 

Was  with  the  scatter'd  ruins  o'erspread. 

The  Athenian,  cautious,  view'd  the  distant  danger, 

Drew  in  the  rein,  and  turn'd  his  car  aside ;  660 

Then  pass'd  them  all.     Orestes,  who,  secure 

Of  conquest,  lagg'd  behind,  with  eager  pace 

Now  urged  his  rapid  course,  and  swift  pursued. 

Sharp  was  the  contest;  now  the  Athenian  first, 

And  now  Orestes  o'er  his  coursers  hung ;  665 

Now  side  by  side  they  ran.     When  to  the  last 

And  fatal  gaol  they  came,  Atrides*  son, 

As  chance  with  slacken'd  rein  he  turn'd  the  car, 

Full  on  the  pillar  struck,  tore  from  the  wheel 

Its  brittle  spokes,  and  from  his  seat  down  dropped  670 

Precipitate  :  entangled  in  the  reins. 

His  fiery  coursers  dragg'd  him  o'er  the  field, 

Whilst  shrieking  crowds  with  pity  view'd  the  youth. 

Whose  gallant  deeds  deserved  a  better  fate. 

Scarce  could  they  stop  the  rapid  car,  or  loose  675 

His  mangled  corse,  so  drench'd  in  blood,  so  changed. 

That  scarce  a  friend  could  say  it  was  Orestes. 

Straight  on  the  pile  they  burnt  his  sad  remains ; 

And,  in  an  urn  inclosed,  a  chosen  few. 

From  Phocis  sent,  have  brought  his  ashes  home,     680 

To  reap  due  honours  in  his  native  land. 

Thus  have  I  told  thee  all ;  a  dreadful  tale  ! 

But,  O  !  how  far  more  dreadfilil  to  behold  it, 

And  be,  like  me,  a  witness  of  the  scene  ! 

Cho.  Ah  me  !  the  royal  race,  the  ancient  house  685 


ELECTRA. — ACT   11.  77 

Of  my  loved  master  is  no  more  ! 

Cly.  Great  Jove  ? 

The  event  was  happy,  but  'tis  mix'd  with  wo. 
For,  O  !  'tis  better  to  reflect,  that  life 
And  safety  must  be  purchased  by  misfortunes. 

Gov.  Why  grieve  you,  madam  ? 

Cly.  'Tis  a  bitter  task  690 

To  bring  forth  children  :  though  a  mother  's  wrong'd, 
A  mother  cannot  hate  the  babe  she  bore. 

Gov.  Then  with  ungrateful  news  in  vain  I  came. 

Cly.  O  no  ;  most  welcome  is  the  man  who  brings 
Such  joyful  tidings,  that  a  thankless  child  Gi)5 

Is  gone,  who  left  a  tender  mother's  arms, 
To  live  a  voluntary  exile  from  me ; 
Ne'er  to  these  eyes  return'd,  but  absent  raged, 
And  threatened  vengeance  for  his  murder'd  father. 
Day  bad  no  rest  for  me,  nor  did  the  night  700 

Bring  needful  slumbers  ;  thoughts  of  instant  death 
Appall'd  me  ever  ;  but  my  fears  are  gone  ; 
He  cannot  hurt  me  now  ;  nor,  worse  than  him, 
This  vile,  domestic  plague,  who  haunts  me  still, 
To  suck  my  vital  blood  ;  but  henceforth  safe,  705 

Spite  of  her  threats,  shall  Clytemnestra  live. 

Elec.  Now,  my  Orestes  !  I  indeed  must  mourn 
Thy  cruel  fate,  embitter'd  by  reproach. 
And  from  a  mother's  tongue.     This  is  not  well. 

Cly.  With   him  it  is,    and   would    it  were    with 
thee!  710 

Elec.  Attend,  O  Nemesis  !  and  hear  the  dead  ! 

Cly.  She  heard  that  voice  which  best  deserved  her 
ear 
And  her  decrees  are  just, 

Elec.  Go  on  proud  woman  ! 

Insult  us  now,  while  Fortune  smiles  on  thee. 

Cly.  Dost  thou  then  hope  that  we  shall  fall  here- 
after? 716 


78 


SOPHOCLES. 


Elec.  No,  we  are  fallen  ourselves,  and  cannot  hurt 
thee. 

Cly.  Thrice  worthy  is  that  messenger  of  joy. 
Whose  gladsome  news  shall  stop  thy  clamorous  tongue. 

Got.  My  task  performed,  permit  to  retire. 

Cly.  No,  stranger  I  that  were  an  affront  to  thee,720 
And  to  our  friend  who  sent  thee  here.     Go  in, 
And  leave  that  noisy  wretch  to  bellow  forth 
Her  sorrows,  and  bewail  her  lost  Orestes. 

\_Exeunt  Cly.  and  Gov. 

Elec.  MarkM  ye,  my  friends  ?  did  ye  observe  her 
tears  ? 
Did  she  lament  him  P  did  the  mother  weep  725 

For  her  lost  child  ?  O  no  ;  she  smiled,  and  left  me. 
Wretched  Electra  !  O  my  dear  Orestes  ! 
Thou  hast  undone  me  :  thou  wert  all  my  hope. 
I  thought  thou  wouldst  have  lived  to  aid  my   ven- 
geance 
For  our  loved  father's  death  :  deprived  of  both,      730 
Whither  shall  I  betake  me  ?  left  at  last 
A  slave  to  those  whom  most  on  earth  I  hate, — 
The  cruel  murderers  !     Must  it  then  be  so  ? 
Never,  Oh,  never  !     Thus,  bereft  of  ail. 
Here  will  I  lay  me  down,  and  on  this  spot  736 

End  my  sad  days  :  if  it  offend  the  tyrants. 
Lest  them  destroy  me  ;  it  will  be  kindly  done. 
Life  is  a  pain  ;  I  would  not  wish  to  keep  it. 

Cho.  Where  is  thy  thunder,   Jove  !  or,  where  thy 
power, 
O  Phoebus !     If  thou  dost  behold  this  deed,         .  740 
And  not  avenge  it? 

Elec.      .  O ! 

Cho. 

Elec.  Alas 

Cho. 

Elec. 


Why  mourn'st  thou  thus? 


0  !  do  not  groan  thus. 

Thou  destroy*st  me. 


electra. — act    II. 


79 


Cho.  How  have  I  hurt  thee  ? 

Elec.  Why  thus  vainly  try 

To  give  me  comfort,  when  I  know  he's  dead  ? 
You  but  insult  my  woes. 

Cho.  Yet  weep  not  thus :       745 

Think  on  the  golden  bracelet  that  betray'd 
Amphiaraus,  who  now — 

Elec.  O  me ! 

Cho.  In  bliss 

Immortal  reigns  among  the  shades  Jbelow. 

Elec.  Alas  ! 

Cho.  No  more  ;  a  woman  was  the  cause. 

The  accursed  cause. 

Elec.  She  suffer'd,  did  she  not  ?     750 

Cho.  She  did ;  she  perish'd. 

Elec.  Yes  ;  I  know  it  well : 

He  found  a  kind  avenger  of  his  wrongs; 
But  I  have  none,  for  he  is  ravish'd  from  me. 

Cho.  Thou  art  indeed  unhappy. 

Elec.  'Tis  too  true; 

I  am  most  wretched  ;  it  beats  hard  on  me  :  755 

My  sorrows  never  cease. 

Cho.  We  see  thy  woes. 

Elec.  Therefore  no  more  attempt  to  bring  me  com- 
fort : 
There  is  no  hope. 

Cho.  What  say'st  thou  P 

Elec.  There  is  none  ; 

756  Amphiaraus  was  a  famous  soothsayer.  During  the  time 
of  the  Theban  war,  he  was  solicited  by  Adrastus  to  assist  Po- 
lynices,  his  son-in-law.  Ampharaus,  foreseeing  by  his  art, 
that  if  he  went  he  should  be  slain,  hid  himself,  but  was  dis- 
covered by  his  wife  Eriphyle,  whom  Polynices  had  bribed 
with  a  golden  bracelet.  Amphiaraus,  being  thus  obliged  to 
appear  at  the  siege  of  Thebes,  perished  there.  Alcmseon,  his 
son,  revenged  his  father's  death,  and  slew  his  mother  Eri- 
phyle. 


80 


SOPHOCLES. 


None  left  for  mo,  my  noble  brother  slain. 

Cho.  Death  is  the  lot  of  human  race. 

Elec.  But,  O  !   760 

Not  death  like  his  :  entangled  in  the  reins, 
His  mangled  body  dragg'd  along  the  field. 

Cho.  a  strange,  unthought-of  chance  ! 

Elec.  And  then  to  fall 

A  wretched  stranger  in  a  foreign  land  I 

Cho.  O  horrible ! 

Elec.  •     No  sister  there  to  close  765 

His  dying  eyes,  to  grace  him  with  a  tomb, 
Or  pay  the  sad  last  tributary  tear. 

ACT   III. 

CHRYSOTHEMIS,   ELECTRA,    CHORUS. 

Chry.  Forgive  me,  sister,  if  my  hasty  steps 
Press  unexpected  on  thee  ;  but  I  come 
With  joyful  tidings,  to  relieve  thy  toils, 
And  make  thee  happy. 

Elec.  What  canst  thou  have  found. 

To  soften  ills  that  will  admit  no  cure  ? 

Chry.  Orestes  is  arrived ;  as  sure  as  here 
I  stand  before  thee,  the  dear  youth  is  come. 

Elec.  Canst  thou  then  make  a  mockery  of  my  woes, 
Or  dost  thou  rave  ?  77G 

Chry.  No,  by  our  father's  gods, 

I  do  not  mean  to  scofl*;  but  he  is  come. 

Elec.  Alas  !    who  told  thee  so  ? 
ceived 
Thy  credulous  ear  ? 

Chry.  Know,  from  myself  alone 

I  learn'd  the  truth  and  confirmations  strong  780 


ELECTRA. — ACT  III. 


81 


770 


What  tongue 


de- 


Oblige  me  to  believe  it. 
Elec 


What  firm  proof 


Canst  thou  produce  ?  What  hast  thou  seen  or  known 
To  raise  such  flattering  hopes  ? 

Chry.  o  !  by  the  gods 

1  beg  thee  but  to  hear  me  ;  then  approve 
Or  blame  impartial. 

Elec.  If  to  tell  thy  tale  785 

Can  give  thee  pleasure,  say  it ;  I  attend. 
Chry.    Know  then,  that  soon   as  to  our  father's 
tomb 
Eager  I  came,  my  wondering  eyes  beheld 
Down  from  its  side  a  milky  fountain  flow, 
As  lately  pour'd  by  some  benignant  hand.  790 

With  various  flowers  the  sacred  spot  adorn'd, 
Increased  my  doubts  :  on  every  side  I  look'd 
And  listenM  long,  impatient  for  the  tread 
Of  human  footsteps  there  ;  but  all  was  peace. 
Fearless  approaching  then  the  hallow'd  spot,  795 

I  saw  it  spread  with  fresh-devoted  hair. 
Instant  my  soul  recall'd  its  dearest  hope, 
Nor  doubted  whence  the  pious  offerings  came. 
I  snatch'd  them  up,  and  silent  gazed,  while  joy 
Sprang  in  my  heart,  and  fill'd  my  eyes  with  tears.  800 
They  were,  they  must  be  his  :  ourselves  alone 
Excepted,  who  could  bring  them?  'Twas  not  I, 
And  'tis  not  given  to  thee  to  leave  these  walls 
E'en  for  the  gods  :  our  mother  scarce  would  do 
So  good  an  office  ;  or,  e'en  grant  she  might,  805 

We  must  have  known  it  soon.    Be  confident, 
It  was  Orestes  then  ;  rejoice,  Electra  ! 
Sister,  rejoice  ;  the  same  destructive  Power 
Doth  not  for  ever  rule :  behold  at  last 
A  milder  god,  and  happier  days  appear.  810 

Elec.  Madness  and  folly  !  how  I  pity  thee  ! 
Chry.  Have  I  not  brought  most  joyful  tidings  to 
thee  ? 
soph.  p 


(I 


82 


SOPHOCLES. 


Elec.  Alas !  thou  knowst  not  where  nor  what  thoa 
art. 

Chry.  Not  know  it?  not  believe  what  I  have  seenT 

Elec.  I  tell  thee,  wretched  as  thou  art,  he  's  dead  ; 
He  and  thy  hoped-for  bliss  are  gone  together.         816 
Thou  must  not  think  of  it. 

Chry.  a  wretch  indeed 

1  am,  if  this  be  so ;  but,  O  !  from  whom, 
Where  didst  thou  learn  the  fatal  news? 

Elec.  ^^^^"^  °"^' 

Who  was  a  witness  of  his  death. 

Chry.  Where  is  he?     820 

Amazement  chills  my  soul. 

Elec.  He  is  within, 

And  no  unwelcome  guest  to  Clytemnestra. 

Chry.  Alas!  who  then  could  bring  those  pious  gifts? 

Elec.  Some  friend  to  lost  Orestes  placed  them  there. 

Chry.  I  flew  with  joy  to  tell  thee  better  news,     825 
And  little  thought  to  hear  so  sad  a  tale. 
The  griefs  1  came  to  cure  are  present  still, 
And  a  new  weight  of  woes  is  come  upon  us. 

Elec  But  know,  my  sister  I  all  may  yet  be  well, 
If  thou  wilt  hear  me. 

Chry.  Can  I  raise  the  dead  ?  830 

Elec  I  am  not  mad  that  I  should  ask  it  of  thee. 

Chry.  What  wouldst  thou  have  me  do  ? 

As  I  shall  dictate  to  thee, 

Chry.  If  aught  good 

It  may  produce,  I  do  consent. 

Elec  Remember, 

That  if  we  hope  to  prosper,  we  must  bear : 
Success,  in  all  that 's  human,  must  depend 
On  patience  and  on  toil. 

Chrt.  I  know  it  well, 


835 


ELECTRA. — ACT   HI. 


83 


And  stand  resolved  to  bear  my  part  in  all. 

Elec.  Hear  then  the  solemn  purport  of  my  soul. 
Thou  knowst  too  well  how  friendless  and  forlorn    840 
We  both  are  left,  by  death  bereaved  of  all 
Who  could  support  us.     Whilst  Orestes  lived, 
I  cherish 'd  flattering  thoughts  of  sweet  revenge  ; 
But  he  is  gone,  and  thou  art  now  my  hope. 
Yes,  thou  must  join  (fori  will  tell  thee  all)  845 

With  thy  Electra  to  destroy  iEgisthus. 
To  kill  the  murderer  why  should  we  delay  ? 
Is  aught  of  comfort  left  ?    Thou  canst  but  weep 
Thy  ravish'd  fortunes  torn  unjustly  from  thee  ; 
Thou  canst  but  mourn  thy  loss  of  nuptial  rites,        850 
And  each  domestic  bliss  ;  for,  O  my  sister ! 
The  tyrant  cannot  be  so  weak  of  soul, 
As  e*er  to  sufl*er  our  detested  race 
To  send  new  branches  forth  for  his  destruction. 
Assist  me  then  ;  so  shalt  thou  best  deserve  855 

A  father's  praises  and  a  brother's  love  ; 
So  shalt  thou  still,  as  thou  wert  born,  be  free, 
And  gain  a  partner  worthy  of  thy  bed. 
Dost  thou  not  hear  the  applauding  voice  of  Fame, 
And  every  tongue  conspire  to  praise  the  deed  ?       860 
Will  they  not  mark  us  as  we  pass  along, 
And  cry  aloud, — *  Behold  the  noble  pair ! 
The  pious  sisters,  who  preserved  their  race  ! 
Whose  daring  souls,  unawed  by  danger,  sought 
The  tyrant's  life,  regardless  of  their  own.  865 

What  love  to  these,  what  reverence  is  due ! 
These  shall  the  assembled  nation  throng  to  praise, 
And  every  feast  with  public  honors  crown, 
The  fit  reward  of  more  than  female  virtue  !' 
Thus  will  they  talk,  my  sister !  whilst  we  live,        870 
And  after  death  our  names  shall  be  immortal. 
Aid  then  a  brother's,  aid  a  sister's  cause, 


84 


SOPHOCLES. 


875 


Think  on  thy  father's  wrongs,  preserve  Electra, 
Preserve  thyself;  and,  O!  remember  well, 
That,  to  the  noble  mind,  a  life  dishonor  d 

Is  infamy  and  shame. 

Q^^Q  Be  prudence  now 

The  guide  of  both. 

Chj^y  Her  mind  was  sure  disturb  d, 

My  friends  !  or  she  would  ne'er  have  talk'd  so  wildly. 

Tell  me,  I  beg  thee,  tell  me,  my  Electra ! 

How  couldst  thou  think  so  rash  an  enterprise  8W 

Could  e'er  succeed,  or  how  request  my  aid  ? 

Hast  thou  consider'd  what  thou  art  ?  a  woman, 

Weak  and  defenceless,  to  thy  foes  unequal. 

Fortune,  tbou  seest,  each  hour  flows  in  upon  them 

Nor  deigns  to  look  on  us.     What  hand  shall  deal   880 

The  fatal  blow,  and  pass  unpunish'd  for  it? 

Take  heed,  my  sister !  lest  thy  counsel  heard, 

A  heavier  fate  than  what  we  now  lament 

Fall  on  us  both  :  what  will  our  boasted  fame 

Avail  us  then  ?    It  is  not  death  alone 

We  have  to  fear  ;  to  die  is  not  the  worst 

Of  human  ills  :  it  is  to  wish  for  death. 

And  be  refused  the  boon.     Consider  well. 

Ere  we  destroy  ourselves  and  all  our  race. 

Be  patient,  dear  Electra  !  for  thy  words. 

As  they  had  ne'er  been  utter'd,  here  they  rest. 

Learn  to  be  wise  at  last,  and  when  thou  knowst 

Resistance  vain,  submit  to  powers  superior. 

Cho.  Submit,  convinced  that  prudence  is  the  hrst 
Of  human  blessings. 

£lec.  'Tis  as  I  expected !  »"" 

I    knew    full    well    thou    wouldst   reject   my   coun- 
sel: 
But  I  can  act  alone  ;  nor  shall  this  arm 
Shrink  at  the  blow,  or  leave  its  work  unfinish'd. 


890 


895 


ELECTRA. — ACT  111. 


85 


Chry,  Would  thou  hadst  shown  this  so  muchvaunted 
prowess 
When  our  loved  father  died  ! 

Elec.  I  was  the  same      905 

By  nature  then,  but  of  a  weaker  mind. 

Chry.  Be  sure  thy  courage  fail  thee  not  hereafter. 

Elec.  Thy  aid  will  ne'er  increase  it. 

Chry.  'Twill  be  wanted  : 

For  those  who  act  thus  rashly,  must  expect 
The  fate  they  merit. 

Elec.  I  admire  thy  prudence,      910  . 

But  I  detest  thy  cowardice. 

Chry.  I  hear  thee 

With  patience  ;  for  the  time  must  one  day  come 
When  thou  shalt  praise  me. 

Elec.  Never. 

Chry.  Be  that  left 

For  time  to  judge  ;  enough  remains. 

Elec.  Away ; 

There  's  no  dependence  on  thee. 

Chry.  B»it  there  is,      915 

Hadst  thou  a  mind  disposed  for  its  acceptance. 

Elec.  Go,  tell  thy  mother  all. 

Chry.  I  am  not  yet 

So  much  thy  enemy. 

Elec.       '  And  yet  would  lead  me 

To  infamy. 

Chry.  To  safety  and  to  wisdom. 

Elec.  Must  I  then  judge  as  thy  superior  reason  920 
May  dictate  to  me? 

Chry.  When  thy  better  mind 

Shall  come,  I  'U  not  refuse  to  follow  thee. 

Elec.  Pity,  who  talks  so  well,  should  act  so  poorly  ! 

Chry.  That  censure  falls  on  thee. 

Elec.  What  I  have  said 


86 


SOPHOCLES. 


Is  truth. 

Chry.  Truth,  sister!  may  be  dangerous.  925 

£lec.  Rather  than  thus  submit  I  will  not  live. 

Chry.  Hereafter  thou  wilt  praise  me. 

Elec.  I  shall  act 

As  seems  most  fit,  nor  wait  for  thy  direction. 

Chry.  Art  thou  resolved  then  ?     Wilt  thou  not  re- 
pent, 
And  take  my  counsel  ? 

Ef.Ec.  Counsel  such  as  thine      930 

Is  of  all  ills  the  worst. 

Chry.  Because,  Electra ! 

Thou  dost  not  seem  to  understand  it, 

Elec.  Know,  then, 

That  long  ere  this,  I  had  determined  all. 

Chry.  Then  fare  thee  well ;  thou  canst  not  bear  my 
words. 
Nor  I  thy  actions. 

Elec.  Go  thy  ways ;  henceforth        936 

I  will  not  commune  with  thee  ;  nor  thy  prayers. 
No,  nor  thy  tears,  should  ever  bend  me  to  it : 
Such  idle  commerce  were  the  height  of  folly. 

Chry.  If  thou  dost  think  this  wisdom,  think  so  still ; 
But  when  destruction  comes,  thou  wilt  approve  940 
My  better  counsel,  and  be  wise  too  late.  [Exeunt. 

chorus, 
strophe  I. 
Man's  ungrateful,  wretched  race 
Shall  the  birds  of  heaven  disgrace. 
Whose  ever-watchful,  ever-pious  young, 
Protect  the  feeble  parent  whence  they  sprung !       945 
But  if  the  blast  of  angry  Jove 
Hath  power  to  strike,  or  Justice  reigns  above, 
Not  long  unpunished  shall  such  crimes  remain  i 


electra. — act   IV. 


87 


955 


960 


When  thou,  O  Fame  !  the  messenger  of  wo, 

Shalt  bear  these  tidings  of  the  realms  below,— 
Tidings,  to  Grecians  chiefs,  of  sorrow  and  of  pain.  951 

antistrophe   I. 

Bid  the  sad  Atridae  mourn. 

Their  house  by  cruel  faction  torn  ; 
Tell  them,  no  longer  by  affection  joinM, 
The  tender  sisters  bear  a  friendly  mind. 

The  poor  Electra,  now  alone, 

Making  her  fruitless,  solitary  moan. 
Like  Philomela,  weeps  her  father's  fate ; 

Fearless  of  death,  and  every  human  ill, 

Resolved  her  steady  vengeance  to  fulfil : 
Was  ever  child  so  good,  or  piety  so  great? 

strophe  II. 

Still  are  the  virtuous  and  the  good 

By  adverse  fortune  unsubdued, 
Nor  e'er  will  stoop  to  infamy  and  shame : 

Thus  Electra  dauntless  rose, 

The  war  to  wage  with  virtue's  foes. 
To  gain  the  meed  of  never-ending  fame. 

antistrophe  II. 

Far,  far  above  thy  enemies. 

In  power  and  splendor  mayst  thou  rise, 
And  future  bliss  compensate  present  wo  ! 

For  thou  hast  shown  thy  pious  love. 

By  all  that's  dear  to  Heaven  above, 
Or  sacred  held  by  mortals  here  below. 


965 


970 


[Exeunt. 


ACT   IV. 

ORESTES,  pylades,  with  attendantSy  electra,  chorus. 
Ores.  Say,  virgins  !  if,  by  right  instruction  led. 

This  way  I  tend  to 

Cho.  Whither  wouldst  thou  go  ?  975 


88 


SOPHOCLES. 


ELECTRA.— ACT   IV. 


89 


Ores.  The  palace  of  JEgisthus. 
Cho.  Stranger !  well 

Wert  thou  directed  ;  thou  art  there  already. 
Ores.  WhO)  then,  amongst  your  train  shall  kindly  speak 
A  friend's  approach,  who  comes  with  joyful  news 
Of  highest  import? 

Cho.      Be  that  office  hers,  [poiiiiitiff  to  Electra,  980 
Whom,  bound  by  nature's  ties,  it  best  befits. 

Ores.  Go,  then,  and  say,  from  Phocis  are  arrived 
Who  beg  admittance  to  the  king. 

Elec.  Alas ! 

And  coraest  thou,  then,  to  prove  the  dreadful  tale 
Already  told  ? 

Ores.  What  you  have  heard,  I  know  not ;  985 

But  of  Orestes  came  I  here  to  speak, 
By  Strophius'  command. 

Elec.  What  is  it  ?  say. 

O,  how  I  dread  thy  message  ! 

Ores,  [showing  the  wni.]         Here  behold 

His  poor  remains 

Elec.  O  lost,  undone  Eleclra  ! 

'Tis  then  too  plain,  and  misery  is  complete.  990 

Ores.  If  for  Orestes  thus  thy  sorrows  flow, 
Know  that  within  this  urn  his  ashes  lie. 

Elec.  Do  they  indeed  ?    Then  let  me,  by  the  gods 
I  do  intreat  thee,  let  me  snatch  them  from  thee  *, 
Let  me  embrace  them,  let  me  weep  my  fate,  995 

And  mourn  our  hapless  race. 

Ores.  Give  her  the  urn, 

Whoe'er  she  be  ;  for  not  with  hostile  mind 
She  craves  the  boon  :  perhaps  some  friend  ;  perhaps 
By  blood  united. 

Elec.  [taking  the  urn.~\  O,  ye  dear  remains 
Of  my  Orestes,  the  most  loved  of  men !  1000 

How  do  I  see  thee  now  !  how  much  unlike 
What  my  fond  hopes  presaged,  when  last  we  parted  ! 


\ 


I  sent  thee  forth  with  all  the  bloom  of  youth 
Fresh  on  thy  cheek  ;  and  now,  O  dismal  change! 
I  bear  thee  in  these  hands  an  empty  shade.  1005 

Would  I  had  died  ere  I  had  sent  thee  hence. 
Ere  I  had  saved  thee  from  the  tyrant's  hand  ! 
Would  thou  hadst  died  thyself  that  dreadful  day, 
And  join'd  thy  murder'd  father  in  the  tomb, 
Rather  than  thus,  a  wretched  exile,  fallen,  1010 

Far  from  thy  sister,  in  a  foreign  land  ! 
I  was  not  there  with  pious  hands  to  wash 
Thy  breathless  corpse,  or  from  the  greedy  flame 
To  gather  up  thy  ashes.     What  have  ail 
My  pleasing  toils,  my  fruitless  cares  avail'd,  1015 

E'en  from  thy  infant  years  ;  that  has  a  mother, 
I  watch'd  thee  still,  and  as  a  mother  loved  ? 
I  would  not  trust  thee  to  a  servant's  hand. 
But  was  myself  the  guardian  of  thy  youth. 
Thy  dear  companion  :  all  is  gone  with  ihee.  1020 

Alas  !  thy  death,  like  the  devouring  storm, 
Halh  borne  down  all :  my  father  is  no  more, 
And  thou  art  gone,  and  I  am  going  too. 
Our  foes  rejoice  ;  our  mother,  mad  with  joy, 
Smiles  at  our  miseries  ;  that  unnatural  mother,     1025 
She  whom  thou  oft  hast  promised  to  destroy  ; 
But  cruel  fate  hath  blasted  all  my  hopes, 
And  for  my  dear  Orestes  left  me  naught 
But  this  poor  shadow.     O  !  the  accursed  place, 
Where  I  had  sent  thee !  O  my  hapless  brother  I    1030 
Thou  hast  destroy'd  Electra  :  take  me,  then, 
O,  take  me  to  thee  !  let  this  urn  inclose 
My  ashes  too,  and  dust  to  dust  be  join'd. 
That  we  may  dwell  together  once  again. 
In  life  united  by  one  hapless  fate,  1035 

I  would  not  wish  in  death  to  be  divided ; 
The  dead  are  free  from  sorrows. 
Cho.  Fair  Electra ! 


90 


SOPHOCLES. 


Do  not  indulge  thy  griefs  ;  but,  O  !  remember, 

Sprung  from  a  mortal  like  thyself,  Orestes 

Was  mortal  too  ;  that  we  are  mortal  all.  1040 

Ores,  [aside.]  What  shall  I  say  ?     I  can  refrain  no 
longer. 

Elec.  Why  this  emotion  ^ 

Ores,  [looking  at  Electra.']  Can  it  be  Electra  ? 
That  lovely  form ! 

Elec.  It  is,  indeed,  that  wretch. 

Ores.  O  dreadful ! 

Elec.  Stranger !  dost  thou  weep  for  me  ? 

Ores.  By  impious  hands  to  perish  thus ! 

Elec.  For  me  1045 

Doubtless  thou  weepst,  for  I  am  changed  indeed. 

Ores.  Of  nuptial  rites,  and  each  domestic  joy 
To  live  deprived ! 

Elec.  Why  dost  thou  gaze  upon  me  ? 

Ores.  Alas !  I  did  not  know  I  was  so  wretched. 

Elec.  Why,  what  hath  made  thee  so  ? 

Ores.  I  see  thy  woes.  1050 

Elec.  Not  half  of  them. 

Ores.  Can  there  be  worse  than  these  ? 

Elec.  To  live  with  murderers  ? 

Ores.  What  murderers  ?  whom  P 

Elec.  The  murderers  of  my  father :  bound  to  serve 
them. 

Ores.  Who  binds  thee  ? 

Elec.  One  who  calls  herself  a  mother  ;— 

A  name  she  little  merits. 

Ores.  But  say,  how?  1055 

Doth  she  withhold  the  means  of  life,  or  act 
With  brutal  violence  to  thee  ? 

Elec.  Both,  alas ! 

Are  my  hard  lot ;  she  tries  a  thousand  means 
To  make  me  wretched. 

Ores.  And  will  none  assist, 


electra. — ACT  IV. 


91 


Will  none  defend  thee  ? 

Elec.  None.     My  only  hope  1060 

Lies  burled  there. 

Ores.  O,  how  I  pity  thee  ! 

Elec.  'Tis  kindly  done;  for  none  will  pity  me. 
None  but  thyself.     Art  thou  indeed  a  stranger. 
Or  does  some  nearer  tie  unite  our  sorrows  ? 

Ores.  I  could  unfold  a  tale  ; — but,  say,  these  virgins  ! 
May  I  depend  on  them  ? 

Elec.  They  are  our  friends,  1066 

And  faithful  all. 

Ores.  Then  lay  the  urn  aside. 

And  I  will  tell  thee. 

Elec.  Do  not  take  it  from  me  ; 

Do  not,  dear  stranger! 

Ores.  But  I  must  indeed. 

Elec.  Do  not,  I  beg  thee. 

Ores.  Come,  you  '11  not  repent  it. 

Elec.  O  my  poor  brother !  if  thy  dear  remains  1071 
Are  wrested  from  me,  I  am  most  unhappy. 

Ores.  No  more  ;  thou  must  not  grieve  for  him. 

Elec.  Not  grieve 

For  my  Orestes  ? 

Ores.  No  ;  you  should  not  weep. 

Elec.  Am  I  unworthy  of  him  then  ? 

Ores.  O,  no!        1075 

But  do  not  grieve. 

Elec.  Not  when  I  bear  the  ashes 

Of  my  dear  brother? 

'    Ores.  But  they  are  not  there, 

Unless  by  fiction,  and  a  well-wrought  tale 
That  hath  deceived  thee. 

Elec.  Where  then  is  his  tomb  ? 

Ores.  The  living  need  none. 

Elec.  Ha  !  what  sayst  thou  ? 

Ores.  Truth.     1080 


92 


SOPHOCLES. 


Elec.  Does  he  then  live  ? 

Ores.  If  I  have  life,  he  lives: 

Elec.  And  art  thou  he  ? 

Ores.  Look  here,  and  be  convinced  ; 

This  mark.  His  from  our  father. 

Elec.  O  bless'd  hour  ! 

Ores.  Blessed  indeed ! 

Elec.  Art  thou  then  here  ? 

Ores.  I  am. 

Elec.  Do  I  embrace  thee  ? 

Ores.  Mayst  thou  do  it  long!  1085 

Elec.  O  my  companions  !  O  my  dearest  friends  ! 
Do  ye  not  see  Orestes,  once  by  art 
And  cruel  fiction  torn  from  life  and  me, 
But  now  by  better  art  to  life  restored  ? 

Cho.  Daughter  !  we  do  ;  and  see,  'midst  all  our  woes 
From  every  eye  fast  flow  the  tears  of  Joy.  1091 

Elec,  O,  ye  are  come,  my  friends  in  happiest  hour  : 
E'en  to  behold,  to  find  again  the  man 
Whom  your  souls  wish'd  for,  ye  are  come. 

Cho.  We  are : 

But,  O  !  in  silence  hide  thy  joys,  Electra  !  1095 

Elec.  Wherefore  in  silence  ? 

Cho.  Lest  our  foes  within 

Should  hear  thee. 

Elec  Never,  by  the  virgin  power 

Of  chaste  Diana,  will  I  hide  my  joys. 
Or  meanly  stoop  to  fear  an  idle  throng 
Of  helpless  women. 

Ores.  Women  have  their  power,     1100 

And  that  thou  knowst, 

Elec  Alas  !  and  so  I  do ; 

For,  O  !  thou  hast  calTd  back  the  sad  remembrance 
Of  that  misfortune  which  admits  no  cure, 
And  ne'er  can  be  forgot. 

Ores.  A  fitter  time 


electra. — ACT    IV. 


93 


May  come,  when  we  must  think  of  that. 

Elec  All  times,  1105 

All  hours,  are  fit  to  talk  of  justice  in. 
And  best  the  present,  now  when  I  am  free. 

Ores.  Thou  art  so  ;  be  so  still. 

Elec.  What's  to  be  done  ? 

Ores.  Talk  not,  when  prudence  should  restrain  thy 
tongue. 

Elec.  Who  shall  restrain  it  ?  Who  shall  bind  Electra 
To  fearful  silence,  when  Orestes  comes  ? 
When  thus  I  see  thee  here,  beyond  my  thoughts. 
Beyond  my  hopes. 

Ores.  The  gods  have  sent  me  to  thee ; 

They  bade  me  come. 

Elec  Indeed  !  more  grateful  still 

Is  thy  return  ;  if  by  the  gods'  command  1 115 

Thou  earnest,  the  gods  will  sure  protect  thee  here. 

Okes.  I  would  not  damp  thy  joys,  and  yet  I  fear 
Lest  they  should  carry  thee  too  far. 

Elec                                                   O,  no ! 
But  after  so  long  absence,  thus  return'd 
To  thy  aftlicted  sister  ;  sure  thou  wouldst  not 1120 

Ores.  Do  what? 

Elec  Thou  wouldst  not  grudge  me  the 

dear  pleasure 
Of  looking  on  thee  ? 

Ores.  No  ;  nor  suffer  any 

To  rob  thee  of  it. 

Elec  Shall  I  then  ? 

Ores.  No  doubt. 

Elec  I  hear  that  voice,  my  friends  !  I  neverthought 
To  hear  again  :  ye  know,  when  I  received  1 125 

The  dreadful  news,  I  kept  my  grief  within. 
Silent  and  sad  ;  but  now  I  have  thee  here, 
Now  I  behold  thee,  now  I  fix  my  eyes 


94 


SOPHOCLES, 


On  that  dear  form,  which  never  was  forgotten. 

Ores.  Spend  not  thy  time  in  fruitless  words,  nor 
tell  me  1130 

How  Clyteninestra  lives,  nor  how  ^gisthus 
Hath  lavished  all  our  wealth  :  the  present  hour 
Demands  our  strictest  attention.     Tell  me,  how, 
Whether  by  fraud  or  open  force,  our  foes 
May  best  be  vanquished  :  let  no  cheerful  smile      1135 
Betray  thee  to  thy  mother  ;  seem  to  grieve 
As  thou  wert  wont :  when  we  have  done  the  deed, 
Joy  shall  appear,  and  we  will  smile  in  safety. 

Elec  Thy  will  is  mine.     Not  to  myself  I  owe 
My  present  bliss  ;  I  have  it  all  from  thee,  1140 

From  thee,  my  brother  !  nor  should  aught  persuade  me 
To  give  Orestes  e'en  a  moment's  pain  : 
That  were  ungrateful  to  the  indulgent  Power, 
Who  thus  hath  smiled  propitious.     Know,  ^gisthus 
Has  left  the  palace ;  Clytemnestra  's  there  ;  1145 

And  for  thy  needless  fears  that  I  should  smilcj 
Or  wear  a  cheerful  face,  I  never  shall. 
Hatred  so  strong  is  rooted  in  my  soul. 
The  sight  of  them  will  make  me  sad  enough. 
The  tears  of  joy  perhaps  may  flow  for  thee,  1 150 

And  add  to  the  deceit;  for  flow  they  must, 
W^hen  I  behold  thee  in  one  happy  hour 
Thus  snatch'd  from  life,  and  thus  to  life  restored. 
I  could  not  hope  it :  O,  'tis  passing  strange  ! 
If  from  the  tomb  our  father  should  arise,  11 55 

And  say,  he  lived,  I  think  I  should  believe  him  ; 
And,  O  !  when  thou  art  come  so  far,  'tis  fit 
I  yield  to  thee  in  all :  do  thou  direct 
My  every  step  ;  but  know,  had  I  been  left 
Alone,  e'en  I  would  not  have  fail'd  in  all,  1160 

But  conquer'd  bravely,  or  as  bravely  fell. 

Ores.  No  more.    1  hear  the  footsteps  as  of  one 


ELECTRA.— ACT  IV. 


95 


Coming  this  way. 

Elec.  Strangers  !  go  in,  and  bear 

That  which  with  joy  they  cannot  but  receive, 
But  which  with  joy  they  cannot  long  possess. 


1165 


1170 


1175 


GOVERNOR  OF  ORESTES,  ELECTRA,  ORESTES,     CHORUS. 

Gov.  Madness  and  folly  thus  to  linger  here !; 
Have  ye  no  thought  P  is  life  not  worth  your  care? 
Do  ye  not  know  the  danger  that  surround  you  ? 
Had  I  not  watch'd  myself  before  the  palace, 
Ere  ye  had  enter'd,  all  your  secret  plan 
Had  been  discover'd  to  our  foes  within  : 
Wherefore  no  more  of  this  tumultuous  joy. 
And  lengthen'd  converse  ;  'tis  not  fitting  now. 
Go  in  ;  away  ;  delays  are  dangerous 
At  such  an  hour  :  our  fate  depends  upon  it. 

Ores.  May  I  with  safety  ?  is  all  well  within  ? 

Gov.  None  can  suspect  you. 

Ores.  Spake  you  of  my  death. 

As  we  determined  ? 

Gov.  Living  as  thou  art, 

They  do  account  thee  one  among  the  dead. 

Ores.  And  are  they  glad  ?  what  say  they  ? 

Gov.  By  and  by  1180 

We  '11  talk  of  that ;  let  it  suffice,  that  all 
Is  right  within;    and  that  which   most  they  think 

so. 
May  prove  most  fatal  to  them. 

Elec.  [pointing  to  the  Governor.^  Who  is  this  ? 

Ores.  Do  you  not  know  ? 

Elec.  I  cannot  recollect  him. 

Ores.  Not  know  the  man  to  whom  you  trusted  me  ? 
Under  whose  care 

Elec.  When  ?  how  ? 

Ores.  To  Phocis  sent,  1186 


96 


SOPHOCLES. 


I  'scaped  the  tyrant. 

Elec.  Can  it  then  be  he, 

Among  the  faithless  only  faithful  found, 
When  our  dear  father  fell  P 

Ores.  It  is  the  same. 

Elec.  [to  Gov.]  Dearest  of  men  !  great  guardian  of 
our  race !  1190 

Art  thou  then  here  ?  thou,  who  hast  saved  us  both 
From  countless  woes?     Swift  were  thy  feet  to  bring 
Glad  tidings  to  me,  and  thy  hand  stretch'd  forth 
Its  welcome  succor :  but,  O  !  why  deceive  me  ? 
Why  wouldst  thou  kill  me  with  thy  dreadful  tale, 
E'en  when  thou  hadst  such  happiness  in  store?    1196 
Hail,  father  !  hail ;  for  I  must  call  thee  so  : 
Know,  thou  hast  been  to  me,  in  one  short  day. 
Both  the  most  hated  and  most  loved  of  men. 

Gov.  No  more  of  that:  we  shall  have  time  enough 
To  talk  of  it  hereafter.     Let  us  go ;  1201 

This  is  the  hour  ;  the  queen  is  now  alone, 
And  not  a  man  within :  if  ye  delay. 
Expect  to  meet  more  formidable  foes. 
In  wisdom  and  in  numbers  far  superior.  1205 

Ores.  We  will  not  talk,  my  Pylades  !  but  act. 
Let  us  go  in  ;  but  to  the  gods,  who  guard 
This  place,  be  first  due  adoration  paid. 

Elec.  Hear,  then,  Apollo  !  great  Lycaean  !  hear 
Their  humble  prayer.     O  !  hear  Electra  too,         1210 
Who  with  unsparing  hand  her  choicest  gifts 
Hath  never  fail'd  to  lay  before  thy  altars. 
Accept  the  little  all  which  now  remains 
For  me  to  give  ;  accept  my  humblest  prayers, 
My  vows,  my  adorations  ;  smile  propitious  1215 

Oa  a!)  our  counsels.     O  !  assist  us  now, 
And  show  mankind  what  punishment  remains 
For  guilty  mortals  from  oflended  Heaven  !     [Exeunt, 


electra. — ACT    V. 


97 


CHORUS. 
STROPHE   I. 

Behold,  he  comes  !  the  slaughter-breathing  god, 
Mars,  ever  thirsting  for  the  murderer's  blood  :       1220 

And  see,  the  dogs  of  war  are  close  behind. 
Naught  can  escape  their  all-devouring  rage  : 
This  did  my  conscious  heart  long  since  presage. 

And  the  fair  dream  that  struck  my  raptured  mind. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

The  avenger  steals  along,  with  silent  feet,  1225 

And  sharpen'd  sword,  to  his  paternal  seat. 

His  injured  father's  wrongs  to  vindicate; 
Conoeal'd  from  all  by  Maia's  fraudful  son. 
Who  safe  conducts  him  till  the  deed  be  done,  " 

Nor  longer  will  delay  the  needful  work  of  fate.  1230 

[Exeunt. 


ACT   V. 

ELECTRA,  CHORUS. 

Elec.  O  my  dear  friends  !  they  are  about  it  now  ; 
The  deed  is  doing  :  but  be  still. 

Cho.  What  deed  ? 

How?  where? 

Elix.  She  doth  prepare  the  funeral  banquet ; 

1228  Mercury,  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Maia,  was  the  god  of 
fraud  and  treachery.  The  propriety  of  Mercury's  peculiar 
assistance  in  this  place  may  likewise  be  accounted  for  from 
his  relation  to  Myrtillus,  who  was  slain  by  Pelops. 

1233  The  Greek  funeral  banquet,  which  was  usually  spread 
on  the  tomb  of  the  deceased  by  the  nearest  relation.  This 
banquet  Electra  imagines  that  Clytemnestra  was  already  pre- 
paring for  Orestes,  whom  she  supposed  dead  :  *  but  they,' 
says  she,  'are  not  far  from  her;'  that  is,  they  who  are  pre- 
paring one  for  her.  The  sentence,  we  see,  is  purposely  unfi- 
nished. »       I     i-       J 

SOPH,  ii 


98  SOPHOCLES. 

But  Ihey  are  not  far  from  her. 

Cno.  Why  then  leave  them  ? 

Elec.  To  watch  iEgisthus,  lest  he  steal  upon  us. 
And  blast  our  purpose. 

Cly.  [behind  the  scenes,]  O  !  I  am  betray'd.       1236 
My  palace  full  of  murderers  !  not  a  friend 
Left  to  protect  me  ! 

Elec.  Some  one  cries  within  : 

Did  you  not  hear  ? 

Cho.  It  is  too  horrible 

For  mortal  ear :  I  tremble  at  the  sound.  1240 

Cly.  [within,]  ^gisthus,  O  !  where  art  thou  ? 

Elec.  Hark  !  again 

The  voice,  and  louder. 

Cly.  [within.]  O,  my  child,  my  child  ! 

Pity  thy  mother  ;  pity  her  who  bore  thee. 

Elec.  Be  thine  the  pity  which  thou  show'dst  to  him, 
And  to  his  father. 

Cho.  O,  unhappy  kingdom !  1245 

O,  wretched  race  !  thy  misery  is  full : 
This  day  will  finish  all. 

Cly.  [within.]  O,  I  am  wounded  ! 

Elec.  Another  stroke !     Another,  if  thou  canst. 

Cly.  [within.]  Ah  me  !  again  ? 

Elec.  O,  that  ^Egisthus  too 

GroanM  with  thee  now  ! 

Cho.  Then  vengeance  is  complete  :  1 250 

The  dead  arise,  and  shed  their  murderous  blood 
In  copious  streams. 

ORESTES,    PYLADES,     GOVERNOR     OF     ORESTES,     ELtCTRA, 

CHORUS. 

Elec.  Behold  them  here  ;  their  hands 

Dropping  with  gore  ; — a  pious  sacrifice 
To  the  great  god  of  war.    How  is*t,  Orestes  ? 


ELECTRA.— ACJT    V. 


99 


Ores.  'Tis  very  well,  all's  well :  if  there  be  truth 
In  great  Apollo's  oracles,  she's  dead.  1256 

Thou  need'st  not  fear  a  cruel  mother  now. 

Cho.  No  more ;  -^gisthus  comes. 

Elec  Instant  go  in. 

Do  you  not  see  him  ?  joyful  he  returns. 

Cho.  Retire  ;  thus  far  is  right ;  go  on,  and  prosper.  * 

Ores.  Fear  not  we  '11  do  it. 

Cho.  But  immediately.    1261 

Ores.  I  'm  gone.  [Exeunt  Orestes,  Pi/lades,  and  Gov, 

Elec.  For  what  remains  here  to  be  done. 

Be  it  my  care  ;  I  '11  whisper  in  his  ear 
A  few  soft  flattering  words,  that  he  may  rush 
Unknowing,  down  precipitate,  on  ruin.  1265 

iEGISTHUS,    ELECTRA,  CHORUS. 

iEcis.  Which  of  you  knows  aught  of  these  Phocian 
guests, 
Who  come  to  tell  us  of  Orestes'  death  ? 
You  first  I  ask,  Electra  !  once  so  proud 
And  fierce  of  soul.    It  doth  concern  you  most ; 
And  therefore  you,  I  think,  can  best  inform  me.    1270 

Elec  Yes,  I  can  tell  thee :  is  it  possible 
I  should  not  know  it; — what  were  not  to  know 
A  circumstance  of  dearest  import  to  me? 

tEgis.  Where  are  they,  then  ? 

Elec.  Within. 

tEgis.  And  spake  they  truth  ? 

Elec.  They  did ;    a  truth,  not  proved  by  words 
alone,  1275 

But  facts  undoubted. 

^Gis.  Shall  we  see  him,  then? 

Elec.  Ay,  and  a  dreadful  sight  it  is  to  see. 

iEcis.  Thou  art  not  wont  to  give  me  so  much  joy  ; 
Now  I  am  glad  indeed. 

^lec.  Glad  mayst  thou  be, 


100 


SOPHOCLES. 


ELECTRA. — ACT  V. 


101 


If  aught  there  is  in  that  can  give  thee  joy.  1280 

J3gis.  Silence  within  ;  and  let  my  palace  gates 
Be  open*d  all,  that  Argos  and  Mycenae 
May  send  her  millions  forth  to  view  the  sight ; 
And  if  there  are  who  nourish  idle  hopes 
That  still  Orestes  lives,  behold  him  here,  1285 

'And  learn  submission,  nor  inflame  the  crowd] 
Against  their  lawful  sovereign,  lest  they  feel 
An  angry'monarch's  heaviest  vengeance  on  them. 
Elec.  Already  I  have  learn'd  the  task,  and  yield 
To  power  superior. 

Scene  opens  and  discovers  the  body  of  Clytemnestra  extended 
on  a  bier,  and  covered  with  a  veil.  . 

ORESTES,     PYLADES,    GOVERNOR     OF    ORESTES,    /EGISTHUS, 

ELECTRA,  CHORUS,  and  a  crowd  of  spectators  from 
the  city, 

^Gis.  Wljat  a  sight  is  here !  1290 

O  Deity  supreme  !  this  could  not  be 
But  by  thy  will ;  and  whether  Nemesis 
Shall  still  o'ertake  me  for  my  crime,  I  know  not. 
Take  oflf  the  veil,  that  I  may  view  him  well ; 
He  was  by  blood  allied,  and  therefore  claims         1295 
Our  decent  sorrows. 

Ores.  Take  it  off  thyself; 

'Tis  not  my  office  ;  thee  it  best  befits 
To  see  and  to  lament. 

tEgis.  And  so  it  doe?, 

And  I  will  do  it :  send  Clytemnestra  hither. 

[taking  off  the  veil- 

Ores.  She  is  before  thee. 

.^Gis.  Ha!  what  do  I  see  ?  1300 

Ores.  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  what  affrights  thee 


> 

t 


( 


so 


Do  you  not  see  him  ? 
uEgis. 


In  what  dreadful  snare 


Am  I  then  fallen  P 

Ores.  Dost  thou  not  now  behold 

That  thou  art  talking  with  the  dead  ? 

jEgis.  Alas ! 

Too  well  I  see  it,  and  thou  art — Orestes.  1305 

Ores.  So  great  a  prophet  thou,  and  guess  so  ill  ? 

iEGis.  I  know  that  I  am  lost,  undone  for  ever ; 
But  let  me  speak  to  thee. 

Elec  Do  not,  Orestes !,' 

No,  not  a  word.    What  can  a  moment's  space 
Profit  a  wretch  like  him,  to  death  devoted  ?  1310 

Quick  let  him  die,  and  cast  his  carcass  forth 
To  dogs  and  vultures ;  they  will  best  perform 
Fit  obsequies  for  him ;  by  this  alone 
We  can  be  free  aad  happy. 

Ores.  Get  thee  in  ; 

This  is  no  time  for  talk  :  thy  life,  thy  life.  1315 

tEgis.  But  why  go  in?    If  what  thou  mean'st  to  do 
Be  just,  what  need  of  darkness  to  conceal  it  ? 
Why  not  destroy  me  here  P 

Ores.  Is  it  not  thine 

Now  to  command  :  hence  to  the  fatal  place 
Where  our  dear  father  fell,  and  perish  there.         1320 

iEGis.  This  palace  then  is  doom'd  to  be  the  witness 
Of  all  the  present,  all  the  future  woes 
Of  Pelops'  hapless  race. 

Ores.  Of  thine,  at  least, 

It  shall  be  witness :  that's  my  prophecy. 
And  a  most  true  one. 

iEcis.  'Tis  not  from  thy  father.     1325 

Ores.  Thou  talk'st,  and  time  is  lost.    Away  ! 

iEois.  I  follow. 

Ores.  Thou  shalt  go  first. 

iEois.  Think'st  thou  I  mean  to  fly  ? 

Ores.  No ;  but  I  M  make  thy  end  most  bitter  to 
thee 


102 


SOPHOCLES. 


In  every  circiimstance,  nor  let  thee  choose 

The  softest  means.    Were  all  like  thee  to  perish  1330 

Who  violate  the  laws,  'twould  lessen  much 

The  guilt  of  mortals,  and  reform  mankind.     [Exeunt, 

CHORUS. 

O  race  of  Atreus  !  after  all  thy  woes. 

How  art  thou  thus,  by  one  adventurous  deed, 

To  freedom  and  to  happiness  restored  !  1336 


PHILOCTETES- 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

Ulysses,  king  of  Ithaca. 
Neoptolemcs,  son  of  Achilles. 
Philoctetes,  son  of  Paean,  and  companion  of  Hercules. 
A  Spy. 
Hercules. 

Chorus,  composed  of  the  companions  of  Ulysses  and  Neo- 
ptolemus. 


PHILOCTETES. 


ARGUMENT. 


Philoctetes,  the  son  of  Psean,  had  been  honored  with  the 
friendship  of  Hercules,  who  at  his  death  bequeathed  to  htm 
his  bow,  together  with  the  poisoned  arrows  dipped  in  the 
blood  of  the  hydra.  Philoctetes,  after  this,  being  in  search 
of  an  altar  dedicated  to  his  deceased  friend  in  the  island 
of  Chrysa,  was  there  bit  by  a  serpent :  the  wound  festered, 
and  an  incurable  ulcer  ensued:  notwithstanding  which,  he 
proceeded  to  the  siege  of  Troy,  where  the  wound  growing 
desperate,  his  continual  cries  and  groans  so  interrupted  the 
motions  of  the  war  and  disheartened  the  soldiers,  that  the 
Grecian  chiefs  thought  it  advisable  to  remove  him  from  the 
army;  and  Ulysses  was  accordingly  commissioned  to  carry 
him  to  Lemnos,  an  uninhabited  island  in  the  -^gean  sea, 
and  there  to  leave  him.  In  this  miserable  situation  he  re- 
mained for  ten  years ;  when  the  oracle  informed  the  Greeks 
» that  Troy  could  never  be  conquered  without  the  arrows  of 
Hercules,  then  in  the  possession  of  Philoctetes.  Ulysses 
and  Neoptolemus  were  despatched  with  directions  to 
bring  him  to  the  siege.  The  son  of  Achilles,  at  the  sug- 
gestions of  his  crafty  companion,  introduced  himself  to  the 
wounded  hero  with  an  artful  enumeration  of  affronts,  which 
he  pretended  to  have  received  from  the  Greeks ;  and  hav- 
ing thus  insinuated  himself  into  his  confidence,  he  con- 
trived to  get  possession  of  the  bow  and  fatal  arrows ;  and 
the  artifice  was  nearly  brought  to  a  successful  termination, 
when,  struck  with  remorse,  Neoptolemus  revealed  his 
whole  design  to  Philocteted  ;  and,  at  his  earnest  intreaties, 
restored  him  his  weapons,  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of 
Ulysses.  The  services  thus  rendered  by  Neoptolemus 
were  insufficient,  however,  to  persuade  Philoctetes  to  ac- 
company him  to  Troy ;  when  Hercules  descended  from  the 


106 


SOPHOCI.ES. 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT  1. 


107 


skies,  and  presently  overcame  all  his  scruples  by  the  pro- 
mise of  a  complete  cure  of  his  wounds  by  the  skill  of  Escu- 
lapius. 


ACT  I. 

Scene  Lemnos,  near  a  grottOt  in  a  rock  by  the  sea-aide, 

ULYSSES,   NEOPTOLEMUS,   ATTENDANT. 

Ulys.  At  length,  my  noble  friend  !  thou  bravest  son 

Of  a  brave  father,  father  of  us  all, 

The  great  Achilles  !  we  have  reached  the  shore 

Of  sea-girt  Lemnos,  desert  and  forlorn. 

Where  never  tread  of  human  step  is  seen,  6 

Or  voice  of  mortal  heard,  save  his  alone, 

Poor  Philoctetes,  Paean's  wretched  son, 

Whom  here  I  left,  (for  such  were  my  commands 

From  Grecians  chiefs,)  when,  by  his  fatal  wound 

Oppressed,  his  groans  and  execrations  dreadful         10 

Alarm'd  our  hosts,  our  sacred  rites  profaned, 

And  interrupted  holy  sacrifice. 

But  why  should  I  repeat  the  tale  P    The  time 

Admits  not  of  delay  ;  we  must  not  linger, 

Lest  he  discover  our  arrival  here,  15 

And  ail  our  purposed  fraud  to  draw  him  hence 

Be  inefifectual :  lend  me  then  thy  aid. 

Surveying  round  thee,  canst  thou  see  a  rock 

With  double  entrance ;  to  the  sun's  warm  rays 

In  winter  open,  and  in  summer's  heat  20 

Giving  free  passage  to  the  welcome  breeze  ? 

A  little  to  the  left  there  is  a  fountain 

Of  living  water,  where,  if  yet  he  breathes. 

He  slakes  his  thirst :  if  aught  thou  seest  of  this. 

Inform  me ;  so  shall  each  to  each  impart  25 

Counsel  most  fit,  and  serve  our  common  cause. 


Neo.  \leaving  Vlysset  a  little  behind  Aim.J    If  I  mis- 
take not,  I  behold  a  cave, 
Ev'n  such  as  thou  describest. 

Ulys  .     ^^^^  ^**°"  ^  ^^**^    ^^^ 

Neo.'  Yonder  it  is  ;  but  no  path  leading  thither, 

Or  trace  of  human  footstep. 

Ulys.  ^"  ^^  *^®" 

'Tis  chance  but  he  hath  laid  him  down  to  rest ; 

Look,  if  he  hath  not.  -,     ^t  *  «♦  „.^ 

Neo.  [advancing  towards  the  cave.}    Not  a  creature 

there.  ,    , ,  ..  ^ , 

Ulys.  Norfood,normarkof  household  preparation  . 

Neo.  a  rustic  bed  of  scattered  leaves. 

-,  What  more  r 

Neo!* A  wooden  bowl,  the  work  of  some  rude  hand, 
With  a  few  sticks  for  fuel.       _.    .     „  ^ 

Ulys.  This  is  all  36 

His  little  treasure  here. 

Neo.  Unhappy  man ! 

Some  linen  for  his  wounds. 

Ulys.  This  must  be,  then, 

His  place  of  habitation :  far  from  hence 
He  cannot  roam  ;  distemper'd  as  he  is, 
It  were  impossible.     He  is  but  gone 
A  little  way,  for  needful  food,  or  herb  ! 
Of  power,  to  suage  and  mitigate  his  pain  ; 
Wherefore  despatch  this  servant  to  some  place 
Of  observation,  whence  he  may  espy 
His  every  motion,  lest  he  rush  upon  us. 
There  's  not  a  Grecian,  whom  his  soul  so  much 
Could  wish  to  crush  beneath  him,  as  Ulysses. 

[Makes  a  signal  to  the  attendant,  who  retires.^ 
Neo.  He 's  gone  to  guard  each  avenue  ;  and  now. 
If  thou  hast  aught  of  moment  to  impart  50 

Touching  our  purpose,  say  it ;  I  attend. 


40 


45 


t 


108 


SOPHOCLES. 


Ulys.  Son  of  Achilles  !  mark  me  well ;  remember, 
What  we  are  doing  not  on  strength  alone, 
Or  conrage,  but  on  conduct  will  depend ; 
Therefore  if  aught  uncommon  be  proposed,  65 

Strange  to  thy  ears,  or  adverse  to  thy  nature, 
Reflect  that  'tis  thy  duty  to  comply. 
And  act  conjunctive  with  me. 

Neo.  Well!  what  is  it? 

Ulys.  We  must  deceive  this  Philoctetes;  that 
Will  be  thy  task.     When  he  shall  ask  thee  who        60 
And  what  thou  art,  Achilles'  son,  reply; 
Thus  far  within  the  verge  of  truth,  no  more. 
Add,  that  resentment  fired  thee  to  forsake 
The  Grecian  fleet,  and  seek  thy  native  soil. 
Unkindly  used  by  those,  who  long  with  vows  65 

Had  sought  thy  aid  to  humble  haughty  Troy  ; 
And  when  thou  earnest,  ungrateful  as  they  were, 
The  arms  of  great  Achilles,  thy  just  right, 
Gave  to  Ulysses  :  here  thy  bitter  taunts 
And  sharp  invectives  liberally  bestow  70 

On  me  ;  say  what  thou  wilt,  I  shall  forgive. 
And  Greece  will  not  forgive  thee  if  thou  dost  not ; 
For  against  Troy  thy  efforts  are  all  in  vain 
Without  his  arrows  :  safely  thou  mayst  hold 
Friendship  and  converse  with  him,  but  I  cannot.     75 
Thou  wert  not  with  us  when  the  war  began. 
Nor  bound  by  solemn  oath  to  join  our  host, 
As  I  was ;  me  he  knows,  and  if  he  find 
That  I  am  with  thee,  we  are  both  undone. 
They  must  be  ours,  then,  these  all-conquering  arms  ; 
Remember  that.     I  know,  thy  noble  nature  81 

Abhors  the  thought  of  treachery  or  fraud ; 
I  But  what  a  glorious  prize  is  victory  ! 
Therefore  be  bold ;  we  will  be  just  hereafter. 
Give  to  deceit  and  me  a  little  portion  85 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT    I. 


109 


Of  one  short  day,  and  for  thy  future  life 
Be  call'd  the  holiest,  worthiest,  best  of  men. 

Neo.  What  but  to  hear  alarms  my  conscious  soul. 
Son  of  Laertes  !  I  shall  never  practise  : 
I  was  not  born  to  flatter  or  betray  ;  *  90 

Nor  I,  nor  he  (the  voice  of  fame  reports) 
Who  gave  me  birth.     What  open  arms  can  do, 
Behold  me  prompt  to  act ;  but  ne'er  to  fraud 
Will  I  descend.     Sure  we  can  more  than  match 
In  strength  a  foe  thus  lame  and  impotent:  95 

I  came  to  be  a  helpmate  to  thee,  not 
A  base  betrayer;  and,  O  king  !  believe  me  ; 
Rather,  much  rather,  would  I  fall  by  virtue, 
Than  rise  by  guilt  to  certain  victory. 

Ulys.  O  noble  youth,  and  worthy  of  thy  sire!      100 
When  I  like  thee  was  young,  like  thee  of  strength 
And  courage  boastful,  little  did  I  deem 
Of  human  policy  ;  but  long  experience 
Haih  taught  me,  son  !  'tis  not  the  powerful  arm, 
But  soft,  enchanting  tongue,  that  governs  all.  105 

Neo.  And   ihou  wouidst    have    me    tell  an  odious 
falsehood  ? 

Ulys.  He  must  be  gain'd  by  fraud. 

Neo.  By  fraud?  and  why 

Not  by  persuasion  ? 

Ulys.  He'll  not  listen  to  it. 

And  force  were  vainer  still. 

Neo.  What  mighty  power 

Hath  he  to  boast  ? 

Ulys.  His  arrows,  wing'd  with  death  110 

Inevitable. 

Neo.  Then  it  were  not  safe 

Ev'n  to  approach  him. 

Ulys.  No  ;  unless  by  fraud 

He  be  secured. 

Neo.  And  think'st  thou  'tis  not  base 


no 


SOPHOCLES. 


PHILOCTETES.— ACT  I. 


i1 


116 


To  tell  a  lie  tben  P 
Ulys.  Not  if  on  that  he 

Depends  our  safety. 

Neo.  Who  shall  dare  to  tell  it 

Without  a  blush  ? 

Ulys.  We  need  not  blush  at  aught 

That  may  promote  our  interest  and  success. 

Neo.  But  where 's  the  interest  that  should  bias  mc  ? 
Come  he  or  not  to  Troy,  imports  it  aught 
To  Neoptolemus  ? 

Ulys.  Troy  cannot  fall  l'-*^ 

Without  his  arrows. 
Neo.  Saidst  thou  not,  that  I 

Was  destined  to  destroy  her  ? 

ULYg^  Without  him 

Naught  canst  thou  do,  and  they  without  thee  nothing. 
Neo.  Then  1  must  have  them. 
Ulys.  When  thou  hast,  remember 

A  double  prize  awaits  thee. 

j^Eo.  What  Ulysses?         125 

Ulys.  The  glorious  names  of  valiant  and  of  wise. 
Neo.  Away  ;  I'll  do  it.    Thoughts  of  guilt  or  shame 

No  more  appal  me. 

Ulys.  Wilt  thou  do  it,  then  ? 

Wilt  thou  remember  what  I  told  thee  of? 

Neo.  Depend  on  't ;  I  have  promised  ;  that 's  suffi- 
cient. ^       *^ 

Ulys.  Here,  then,  remain  thou ;  I  must  not  be  seen : 

If  thou  stay  long,  I  '11  send  a  faithful  spy, 

Who,  in  a  sailor's  habit  well  disguised. 

May  pass  unknown  :  of  him,  from  time  to  time, 

What  best  may  suit  our  purpose  thou  shall  know.  135 

rU  to  the  ship ;  farewell ;  and  may  the  god 

Who  brought  us  here,  the  fraudful  Mercury, 

And  great  Minerva,  guardian  of  our  country, 

And  ever  kind  to  me,  protect  us  still !    [Exit  Ulysses, 


111 

140 


145 


150 


155 


Cho.  Master!  instruct  us,  strangers  as  we  are. 
What  we  may  utter,  what  we  must  conceal. 
Doubtless  the  man  we  seek  will  entertain 
Suspicion  of  us ;  how  are  we  to  act  P 
To  those,  alone,  belong  the  art  to  rule, 
Who  bear  the  sceptre  from  the  hand  of  Jove : 
To  thee,  of  right,  devolves  the  power  supreme, 

From  thy  great  ancestors  deliver'd  down  : 

Speak,  then,  our  royal  lord,  and  we  obey. 
Neo.  If  you  would  penetrate  yon  deep  recess, 

To  see  the  cave  where  Philoctetes  lies. 

Go  forward ;  but  remember  to  return 

When  the  poor  wanderer  comes  this  way,  prepared 

To  aid  our  purpose  here,  if  need  require. 
Cho.  O  king  !  we  ever  meant  to  fix  our  eyes 

On  thee,  and  wait  attentive  to  thy  will. 

But,  tell  us,  in  what  part  is  he  conceal  d  ? 

^Tis  fit  we  know  the  place,  lest  unobserved 

He  rush  upon  us.    Which  way  doth  it  lie  ? 

Seest  thou  his  footsteps  leading  from  the  cave, 

Or  hither  bent?  ^^  ,    _   .     .     ,, 

Neo.  [advancing  towards  the  cave,]  Behold  the  dou  We 

door  . 

Of  bis-poor  dwelling,  and  the  flinty  bed. 

Cho.  And  whither  is  its  wretched  master  gone  ? 

Neo    Doubtless  in  search  of  food,  and  not  far  off. 
For  such  his  manner  is  ;  accustomed  here 
(So  Fame  reports)  to  pierce  with  winged  arrows     165 
His  savage  prey  for  daily  sustenance  ; 
His  wound  still  painful,  and  no  hope  of  cure. 

Cho.  Alas  I  I  pity  him  ;  without  a  fnend, 

140  The  Chorus  is  composed  of  the  soldiers  and  Mowers 
of   Ulysses  and  Neoptolemus;    ^«  .^P^f^^  P^^^^'teS^'?^^^ 

^fh^.  M?o=  tTeVraid^f -a  -^- 
ing  the  designs  of  their  commanders. 


112 


SOPHOCLES. 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT    II. 


113 


■f 


\ 


Without  a  fellow-suflferer,  left  alone, 

Deprived  of  all  the  mutaal  joys  that  flow  170 

From  sweet  society  ;  distemper'd  too. 

How  can  he  bear  it  ?  O  unhappy  race 

Of  mortal  man  !  doom'd  to  an  endless  round 

Of  sorrows,  and  immeasurable  wo  ! 

Second  to  none  in  fair  nobility  175 

Was  Philoctetes,  of  illustrious  race  : 

Yet  here  be  lies,  from  every  human  aid 

Far  off  removed,  in  dreadful  solitude. 

And  mingles  with  the  wild  and  savage  herd  ; 

With  them  in  famine  and  in  misery  180 

Consumes  his  days,  and  weeps  their  common  fate, 

Unheeded,  save  when  babbling  Echo  mourns. 

In  bitterest  notes,  responsive  to  his  wo. 

Neo.  And  yet  I  wonder  not ;  for  if  aright 
I  judge,  from  angry  heaven  the  sentence  came,       185 
And  Chrysa  was  the  cruel  source  of  all : 
Nor  doth  this  sad  disease  inflict  him  still 
Incurable,  without  assenting  gods  ; 
For  so  they  have  decreed,  lest  Troy  should  fall 
Beneath  his  arrows,  ere  the  appointed  time  190 

Of  its  destruction  come. 

Cho.  No  more,  my  son  ! 

Neo.  What  say'st  thou  ? 

Cho,  Sure  I  heard  a  dismal  groan 

Of  some  afllicted  wretch  ! 

Neo.  Which  way  ? 

Cho.  Ev'n  now 

I  hear  it,  and  the  sound  as  of  some  step 
Slow  moving  this  way  :  he  is  not  far  from  us ; 
His  plaints  are  louder  now.     Prepare,  my  son  ! 

Neo.  For  what? 

Cho.  New  troubles  ;  for,  behold,  he  comes  ; 

Not  like  the  shepherd,  with  his  rural  pipe 


And  cheerful  song,  but  groaning  heavily. 

Either  his  wounded  foot  against  some  thorn  200 

Hath  struck,  and  pains  him  sorely  ;  or,  perchance, 

He  hath  espied  from  far  some  ship  attempting 

To  enter  this  inhospitable  port, 

And  hence  his  cries  to  save  it  from  destruction. 

[Exeunt- 

ACT  II. 

philoctetes,  neoptolemus,  chorus. 

Phi.  Say,  welcome  strangers  !  what  disastrous  fate 
Led  you  to  this  inhospitable  shore,  206 

Nor  haven  safe,  nor  habitation  fit, 
Affording  ever?     Of  what  clime,  what  race  ? 
Who  are  ye  ?  Speak ;  if  I  may  trust  that  garb, 
Familiar  once  to  me,  ye  are  of  Greece,  210 

My  much -loved  country  :  let  me  hear  the  sound 
Of  your  long-wished-for  voices  :  do  not  look 
With  horror  on  me;  but  in  kind  compassion 
Pity  a  wretch  deserted  and  forlorn 
In  this  sad  place.     O  !  if  ye  come  as  friends,  215 

Speak,  then,  and  answer ;  hold  some  converse  with  me  ; 
For  this,  at  least,  from  man  to  man  is  due. 

Neo.  Know,  stranger,  first,  what  most  thou  seem'st 
to  wish ; 
We  arQ  of  Greece. 

Phi.  O  happiness  to  hear ! 

After  so  many  years  of  dreadful  silence,  220 

How  welcome  was  that  sound !  O  !  tell  me,  son  ! 
What  chance,  what  purpose,  who  conducted  thee  ? 
What  brought  thee  hither,  what  propitious  gale  ? 
Who  art  thou  ?  Tell  me  all;  inform  me  quickly. 

Neo,  Native  of  Scyros  !  thither  I  return  ;  225 

225  Scyros  was  an  island  in  the  -^gean  sea,  of  which  Lyco- 
SOPH.  H 


114 


SOPHOCLES. 


My  name  is  Neoptolemus,  the  son 

Of  brave  Achilles.    I  have  told  thee  all 

Phi.  Dear  is  thy  country,  and  thy  father  dear 
To  me,  thou  darling  of  old  Lycoraede !  J^ 

But^eil  me.  in  what  fleet,  and  whence  thou  earnest  ? 

P^"  ""Trom  tW  1  I  think  thou  wert  not  with  us 
When  first  our  fleet  sail'd  forth.^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^^^  ^ 

Or  k'now'st  thou  aught  of  that  great  enterprise  ? 
Phi.  Know  you  not,  then,  the  man  whom  you  be- 

Neo.  How  should  I  know  whom  I  had  never  seen  ? 
Phi    Have  you  ne'er  heard  of  mc,  nor  of  my  name  ? 
Hath  my  sad  story  never  reachM  your  ear? 

Neo.  Never.  ,  , 

p„,  Alas  !  how  hateful  to  the  gods, 

How  very  poor  a  wretch  must  T  be,  then. 

Thai  Greece  should  never  hear  of  woes  I^^e  mine  !  240 

But  they  who  sent  me  hither,  they  conceal  d  them, 

And  smile  triumphant,  whilst  my  cruel  ^vounds  . 

Grow  deeper  still.     O,  sprung  from  great  Achilles  ! 

Behold  before  thee  Paean's  wretched  son. 

With  whom  (a  chance  but  thou  hast  heard)  remain  245 

The  dreadful  arrows  of  renown'd  Alcides  ; 

Ev'n  the  unhappy  Philoctetes  ;  him. 

Whom  the  Atridse,  and  the  vile  Ulysses, 

Inhuman  left,  distemper'd  as  I  was 

Bv  the  envenom'd  serpent's  deep  felt  wound.  250 

Soon  as  they  saw,  that,  with  long  toil  oppress  d, 

meJes  was  king.     Hither   Achilles   was   brought  in   woman's 
frfn.^pl  to  avoil  the  Trojan   war;    and,   falhng  m  love   with 

iTctet^s  calls  him  '  the  darling  of  old  Lycomede, 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT    II. 


115 


Sleep  had  o'erta'en  me  on  the  hollow  rock. 
There  did  they  leave  me,  when  from  Chrysa's  shore 
They  bent  their  fatal  course:  a  little  food. 
And  these  few  rags,  were  all  they  would  bestow.     255 
Such  one  day  be  their  fate  !  Alas !  my  son, 
How  dreadful,  think'st  thou,  was  that  waking  to  me, 
When  from  my  sleep  I  rose,  and  saw  them  not ! 
How  did  I  weep,  and  mourn  my  wretched  state. 
When  not  a  ship  remain'd  of  all  the  fleet  260 

That  brought  me  here  !  No  kind  companion  left 
To  minister  or  needful  food  or  balm 
To  my  sad  wounds !  on  every  said  I  look'd, 
And  nothing  saw  but  wo  ;  of  that  indeed 
Measure  too  full ;  for  day  succeeding  day,  265 

And  still  no  comfort  came.     Myself  alone 
Could  to  myself  the   means  of  life  aflbrd 
In  this  poor  grotto  ;  on  my  bow  I    lived : 
The  winged  dove,  which  my  sharp  arrow  slew. 
With  pain  I  brought  into  my  little  hut,  270 

And  feasted  there;  then  from  the  broken  ice 
I  slaked  ray  thirst,  or  crept  into  the  wood 
For  useful  fuel :  from  the  stricken  flint 
I  drew  the  latent  spark,  that  warms  me  still. 
And  still  revives :  this  with  my  humble  roof,  275 

Preserve  me,  son  !  but,  O  !  ray  wounds  remain. 
Thou  seest  an  island  desolate  and  waste ; 
No  friendly  port,  nor  hopes  of  gain  to  tempt. 
Nor  host  to  welcome  in  the  traveller  : 
Few  seek  the  wild,  inhospitable  shore,  280 

By  adverse  winds,  sometimes  the  unwilling  guests 
(As  well  thou  mayst  suppose)  were  hither  driven  ; 
But  when  they  came,  they  only  pitied  me. 
Gave  me  a  little  food,  or  better  garb 
To  shield  me  from  the  cold  ;   in  vain  I  pray'd  285 

That  they  would  bear  me  to  my  native  soil, 


116 


SOPHOCLES. 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT  II. 


117 


For  none  would  listen.    Here  for  ten  long  years, 
Have  I  reraain'd  whilst  misery  and  famine 
Keep  fresh  my  wounds,  and  double  ray  misfortune. 
^      This  have  the  Atridae  and  Ulysses  done,  290 

And  may  the  gods  with  equal  woes  repay  them  ! 

Cho.  O  son  of  Psean  !  well  might  those  who  came, 
And  saw  thee  thus,  in  kind  compassion,  weep: 
I  too  must  pity  thee  :  I  can  no  more. 

Neo.  I  can  bear  witness  to  thee,  for  I  know  295 

By  sad  experience  what  the  Atridae  are, 
And  what  Ulysses. 

Phi.  Hast  thou  suffered,  then  ? 

And  dost  thou  bate  them  too  ? 

j^Eo.  O  •  t^3t  *^^s®  hands 

Could  vindicate  my  wrongs!  Mycenae,  then, 
And  Sparta  should  confess,  that  Scyros  boasts  300 

Of  sons  as  brave  and  valiant  as  their  own. 

Phi.  O   noble  youth  !   but  wherefore  camest  thou 
hither? 
Whence  this  resentment  ? 

Neo.  I  will  tell  thee  all, 

If  I  can  bear  to  tell  it :  know,  then,  soon 
As  great  Achilles  died  — 

Phi.  O?  stay  ray  son  !  305 

Is  then  Achilles  dead  ? 

Neo.  He  is,  and  not 

By  mortal  hand,  but  by  Apollo's  shaft 
Fell  glorious. 

Phi.  O  I  most  worthy  of  each  other. 

The  slayer  and  the  slain  !  Permit  me,  son,  309 

To  mourn  his  fate,  ere  I  attend  to  thine.       [He  weeps, 

Neo.  Alas  !  thou  need'st  not  weep  for  others'  woes  : 

299,  Xt  300  Two  cities  of  Peloponnesus.  Neoptoleraus  here 
threatens  Agamemnon  and  Menelaas  ;  the  former  of  whom 
was  king  of  Mycense,  and  the  latter  of  Sparta, 


Thou  hast  enough  already  of  thy  own. 

Phi.  'Tis  very  true  ;  and  therefore  to  thy  tale. 

Neo.  Thus,  then,  it  was.    Soon  as  Achilles  died, 
Phoenix,  the  guardian  of  his  tender  years,  315 

Instant  sail'd  forth,  and  sought  me  out  at  Scyros  : 
With  him  the  wary  chief,  Ulysses,  came. 
They  told  me  then,  (or  true  or  false  I  know  not) 
My  father  dead,  by  me,  and  me  alone, 
Proud  Troy  must  fall :  I  yielded  to  their  prayers;  320 
I  hoped  to  sem  at  least  the  dear  remains 
Of  him,  whom  living  I  had  long  in  vain 
Wish'd  to  behold  :  safe  at  Sigeum's  port 
Soon  we  arrived  ;  in  crowds  the  numerous  host 
Throng'd  to  embrace  me,  call'd  the  gods  to  witness, 
In  me  once  more  they  saw  their  loved  Achilles       326 
To  life  restored  ;  but  he,  alas  !  was  gone. 
I  shed  the  duteous  tear,  then  sought  my  friends, 
The  Atridae,  (friends  I  thought  them)  claim'd  the  arms 
Of  my  dead  father,  and  what  else  reraain'd  330 

His  late  possession  ;  when  (O  cruel  words ! 
And  wretched  I  to  hear  thera  !)  thus  they  answer'd  : — 
'  Son  of  Achilles  !  thou  in  vain  demand'st 
Those  arms,  already  to  Ulysses  given  ; 
The  rest  be  thine.'    I  wept;  *  And  is  it  thus,'         335 
Indignant  I  replied,  *  ye  dare  to  give 
My  right  away  ?' — *  Know,  boy  !'  Ulysses  cried, 
'  That  right  was  mine,  and  therefore  they  bestowed 
The  boon  on  me  ; — me,  who  preserved  the  arras, 
And  him  who  bore  them  too.'     With  anger  fired    340 
At  this  proud  speech,  I  threatened  all  that  rage 
Could  dictate  to  me,  if  he  not  returned  them. 
Stung  with  my  words,  yet  calm,  he  answer'd  me  : — 

340  Ulysses  was  -reported  to  have  taken  away  the  dead 
body  of  Achilles  from  the  Trojans,  and  carried  it  oflf  the  field 
of  battle,  to  the  Grecian  camp. 


118 


SOPHOCLES. 


*  Thou  wert  not  with  us  ;  thou  wert  in  a  place 
Where  thou  shouldst  not  have  been  :  and  since  thou 
meanest  345 

To  brave  us  thus,  know,  thou  shalt  never  bear 
Those  arms  with  thee  to  Scyros ;  'tis  resolved/ 
Thus  injured,  thus  deprived  of  all  I  held 
Most  precious,  by  the  worst  of  men,  I  left 
The  hateful  place,  and  seek  my  native  soil ;  350 

Nor  do  I  blame  so  much  the  proud  Ulysses, 
As  his  base  masters.    Army,  city,  all      • 
Depend  on  those  who  rule  :  when  men  grow  vile. 
The  guilt  is  theirs  who  taught  them  to  be  wicked. 
I've  told  thee  all ;  and  him  who  hates  the  Atridae,  355 
I  hold  a  friend  to  me,  and  to  the  gods. 

CHORUS. — STROPHE. 

O  Earth  !  thou  mother  of  great  Jove, 
Embracing  all  with  universal  love  ! 

Author  benign  of  every  good, 
Through  whom  Pactolus  rolls  his  golden  flood  !       360 

To  thee,  whom  in  thy  rapid  car 

Fierce  lions  draw,  I  rose,  and  made  my  prayer  ; 

To  thee  I  made  my  sorrows  known, 

When  from  Achilles'  injured  son 
The  Atridai  gave  the  prize,  that  fatal  day,  365 

When  proud  Ulysses  bore  his  arms  away. 

Phi.  I  wonder  not,  my  friend  !  to  see  you  here, 
And  I  believe  the  tale ;  for  well  I  know 
The  men  who  wrong'd  you,  know  the  base  Ulysses. 
Falsehood  and  fraud  dwell  on  his  lips,  and  naught  370 

360  The  Earth,  under  the  various  names  of  Cybele,  Ops, 
Rhea,  and  Vesta,  called  the  Mother  of  the  Gods,  was  wor- 
shipped in  Phrygia  and  Libya,  where  the  river  Pactolus  is 
said  to  have  enriched  Croesus  with  its  sands.  Cybele  is  re- 
presented by  the  poets  as  drawn  by  lions. 


PHILOCTETES.— ACT  II. 


lid 


375 


380 


That's  just  or  good  can  be  expected  from  him  : 
But  strange  it  is  to  me,  that,  Ajax  present, 
He  dare  attempt  it. 

I^Eo.  Ajax  is  no  more  : 

Had  he  been  living,  I  had  ne'er  been  spoil'd 

Thus  of  my  right. 

Phi.  Is  he  then  dead  ? 

Neo.  H<^  's- 

Phi.  Alas  !  the  son  of  Tydeus,  and  that  slave 

Sold  by  his  father  Sisypbus  j— they  live, 
Unworthy  as  they  are. 

Neo.  Alas  !  they  do, 

And  florish  still. 
Phi.  My  old  and  worthy  friend, 

The  Pylian  sage,— how  is  he  ?     He  could  see 

Their  arts,  and  would  have  given  them  better  counsels. 

Neo.  Weigh'd  down  with  grief,  he  lives  ;  but,  most 
unhappy. 
Weeps  his  lost  son,  his  dear  Antilochus. 

Phi.  O  double   wo!    Whom  I   could  most  have 
wish'd 
To  live  and  to  be  happy,  those  to'perish  !  385 

Ulysses  to  survive  !     It  should  not  be. 

Neo.  O,  'tis  a  subtile  foe !  but  deepest  plans 

May  sometimes  fail. 

Phi^  Where  was  Patroclus  then, 

Thy  father's  dearest  friend  ? 

^^o.  He  too  was  dead. 

In  war,  alas !  (so  Fate  ordains  it  ever,)  390 

376  Dioraed  was  the  son  of  Tydeus. 

877  It  was  reported  that  Anticlea  was  taken  away  by  Laer- 
tes after  her  marriage  with  Sisyphus,  for  which  the  first  hus- 
band received  a  sum  of  money  :  Ulysses,  therefore,  was  otten 
reproached  with  being  the  son  of  Sisyphus. 

380  Nestor,  king  of  Pylos.  .     t.    m    •      „„, 

383  Antilochus  was  slain  by  Memnon  in  the  Irojan  war. 


120 


SOPHOCLES, 


The  coward  'scapes,  the  brave  and  virtuous  fall. 

Phi.  It  is  too  true  ;  and  now  thou  talk'st  of  cowards, 
Where  is  that  worthless  wretch,  of  readiest  tongue, 
Subtile  and  voluble  ? 

Ned.  Ulysses  ? 

Phi,  No  ; 

Thersites;  ever  talking,  never  heard.  395 

Neo.  I  have  not  seen  him,  but  I  hear  he  lives. 

Phi.  I  did  not  doubt  it :  evil  never  dies  ; 
The  gods  take  care  of  that :  if  aught  there  be 
Fraudful  and  vile,  'tis  safe  ;  the  good  and  just 
Perish  unpitied  by  them.    Wherefore  is  it  ?  400 

When  gods  do  ill,  why  should  we  worship  them  ? 

Neo.  Since  thus  it  is  ;  since  virtue  is  oppressed, 
And  vice  triumphant ;  who  deserve  to  live 
Are  doomed  to  perish,  and  the  guilty  reign  ; — 
Henceforth,  O  son  of  Paean  !  far  from  Troy  405 

And  the  Atridae  will  I  live  remote. 
I  would  not  see  the  man  I  cannot  love. 
My  barren  Scyros   shall  afford  me  refuge. 
And  home-felt  joys  delight  my  future  days. 
So  fare  thee  well,  and  may  the  indulgent  gods        410 
Heal  thy  sad  wound,  and  grant  thee  every  wish 
Thy  soul  can  form  !  Once  more,  farewell.     I  go. 
The  first  propitious  gale. 

Phi.  What,  now,  my  son  ? 

So  soon  ? 

Neo.  Immediately;  the  time  demands 
We  should  be  near,  and  ready  to  depart.  415 

Phi.  Now,  by  the  memory  of  thy  honored  sire, 
By  thy  loved  mother,  by  whatever  remains 
On  earth  most  dear  to  thee,  O  !  hear  me  now. 
Thy  suppliant :  do  not,  do  not  thus  forsake  me. 
Alone,  oppress'd,  deserted,  as  thou  seest,  420 

In  this  sad  place.    I  shall  (I  know  I  must)  be 


425 


430 


435 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT   II.  *2l 

A  burden  to  thee ;  but,  O  !  bear  it  kindly. 

For  ever  doth  the  noble  mind  abhor 

The  ungenerous  deed,  and  loves  humanity. 

Disgrace  attends  thee  if  thou  dost  forsake  me  : 

If  not,  immortal  fame  rewards  thy  goodness. 

Thou  mayst  convey  me  safe  to  OEta's  shores 

In  one  short  day :  I'll  trouble  you  no  longer. 

Hide  me  in  any  part  where  I  may  least 

Molest  you.     Hear  me,  by  the  guardian  god 

Of  the  poor  suppliant,  all-protecting  Jove, 

I  beg  !  Behold  me  at  thy  feet :  infirm, 

And  wretched  as  I  am,  I  clasp  thy  knees. 

Leave  me  not  here,  then,  where  there  is  no  mark 

Of  human  footstep  ;  take  me  to  thy  home, 

Or  to  Euboea's  port,  to  (Eta  ;  thence 

Short  is  the  way  to  Trachin,  or  the  banks 

Of  Sperchius'  gentle  stream,  to  meet  my  father, 

If  yet  he  lives  ;  for,  O  !  I  beggM  him  oft. 

By  those  who  hither  came,  to  fetch  me  hence. 

Or  he  is  dead,  or  they,  neglectful,  bent 

Their  hasty  course  to  their  own  native  soil. 

Be  thou  my  better  guide  ;  pity  and  save 

The  poor  and  wretched.     Think,  my  son!  how  frail 

And  full  of  danger  is  the  state  of  man,  445 

Now  prosperous,  now  adverse :  who  feels  no  ills, 

Should  therefore  fear  them ;  and  when  Fortune  smiles. 

Be  doubly  cautious,  lest  destruction  come 

Remorseless  on  him,  and  he  fall  unpitied. 

Cho,  O,  pity  him,  my  lord !  for  bitterest  woes     450 
And  trials  most  severe  he  hath  recounted. 
Far  be  such  sad  distress  from  those  I  love  ! 
O  !  if  thou  hatest  the  base  Atridae,  now  ^/^| 

Revenge  thee  on  them,  serve  their  deadHest  foe  ; 

436  Euboea  was  a  large  island  in  the  uEgean  sea,  now  called 
Negropont.    (Eta,  a  mountain  in  Thessaly,  now  called  iJunma. 


440 


122 


SOPHOCLES. 


I.  » 


Bear  Ihe  poor  suppliant  to  his  native  soil ;  455 

So  Shalt  thou  bless  thy  friend,  and  'scape  the  wrath 
Of  the  just  gods,  who  still  protect  the  wretched. 

Neo.   Your  proflfer'd  kindness,  friends  !    may  cost 
you  dear : 
When  you  shall  feel  his  dreadful  malady 
Oppress  you  sore,  you  will  repent  it. 

C«o.  Never  460 

Shall  that  reproach  be  ours. 

Neo.  In  generous  pity 

Of  the  afflicted  thus  to  be  o'ercome 
Were  most  disgraceful  to  me  :  he  shall  go. 
May  the  kind  gods  speed  our  departure  hence, 
And  guide  our  vessels  to  the  wish'd-for  shore  !        465 

Phi.  O  happy  hour  !  O  kindest,  best  of  men  ! 
And  you,  my  dearest  friends  !  how  shall  I  thank  you  ? 
What  shall  I  do  to  show  my  grateful  heart  ? 
Let  us  be  gone  ;  but,  O  !  permit  me  first 
To  take  a  last  farewell  of  ray  poor  hut. 
Where  I  so  long  have  lived.     Perhaps  you'll  say, 
I  must  have  had  a  noble  mind  to  bear  it. 
The  very  sight,  to  any  eyes  but  mine, 
Were  horrible ;  but  sad  necessity 
At  length  prevail'd,  and  made  it  pleasing  to  me.     475 

Cho.  One  from  our  ship,  my  lord  !  and  with  him 
comes 
A  stranger.    Stop  a  moment,  till  we  hear 
Their  business  with  us. 

Enter  a  Spy,  in  the  habiiofa  merchant j  with  another  Grecian. 

Spy.  Son  of  great  Achilles  ! 

Know,  chance  alone  hath  brought  me  hither,  driven 
By  adverse  winds  to  where  thy  vessels  lay  480 

As  home  I  sail'd  from  Troy  ;  there  did  I  meet 
This  my  companion,  who  inform'd  me  where 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT   II. 


123 


Thou  mightst  be  found  :  hence  to  pursue  my  course, 

And  not  to  tell  thee  what  concerns  thee  near. 

Had  been  ungenerous  ;  thou,  perhaps,  meantime,   485 

Of  Greece  and  of  her  counsels  naught  suspecting  ;— 

Counsels  against  thee,  not  by  threats  alone. 

Or  words  enforced,  but  now  in  execution. 

Neo.  Now  by  my  virtue,  stranger  !  for  thy  news 
I  am  much  bound  to  thee,  and  will  repay  490 

Thy  service  tell  me  what  the  Greeks  have  done. 

Spy.  a  fleet  already  sails  to  fetch  thee  back, 
Conducted  by  old  Phoenix,  and  the  sons 
Of  valiant  Theseus. 

j^Eo.  Come  they  then  to  force  me? 

Or  am  I  to  be  won  by  their  persuasion  ?  495 

Spy.  I  know  not  that ;  you  have  what  I  could  learn. 

Neo.  And  did  the.Atridae  send  them  ? 

gPY  '  Sent  they  are, 

And  will  be  with  you  soon. 

j^gQ  But  wherefore,  then, 

Came  not  Ulysses  ?  Did  his  courage  fail  ? 

Spy.  He,  ere  I  left  the  camp,  with  Diomed 
On  some  important  embassy  sail'd  forth, 
In  search 

Neo.  Of  whom.^ 

Spy.'  There  was  a  man but,  stay, 

Who  is  thy  friend  here  ?     Tell  me,  but  speak  softly. 

[wh  ispering  him. 

Neo.  The  famous  Philoctetes. 
Spy,  Ha !  begone  then 

Ask  me  no  more  ;  away  immediately.  505 

Phi.  What  do  these  dark,  mysterious  whispers  mean  ? 

Concern  they  me,  my  son  ? 

li^EQ  I  know  not  what 


500 


« 


491  Acamas  and  Demoph  hon- 


124 


SOPHOCLES. 


He  means  to  say ;  but  I  would  have  him  speak 
Boldly  before  us  all,  whatever  it  be. 

Spy.  Do  not  betray  me  to  the  Grecian  host,  510 

Nor  make  me  speak  what  I  would  fain  conceal : 
I  am  but  poor ;  they  have  befriended  me. 

Neo.  In  me  thou  seest  an  enemy  confess'd 
To  the  Atridae  ;  this  is  my  best  friend, 
Because  he  hates  them  too :  if  thou  art  mine,         515 
Hide  nothing  then. 

Spy.  Consider  first, 

Neo.  I  have. 

Spy.  The  blame  will  be  on  you. 

Neo.  Why,  let  it  be  ; 

But  speak,  I  charge  thee.  * 

Spy.  Since  I  must,  then  ;  know, 

In  solemn  league  combined,  the  bold  Ulysses, 
And  gallant  Diomed,  have  sworn,  by  force  520 

Or  by  persuasion,  to  bring  back  thy  friend  ; 
The  Grecians  heard  Leartes*  son  declare 
His  purpose  :  far  more  resolute  he  seeraM 
Than  Diomed,  and  surer  of  success. 

Neo.  But  why  the  Atridae,  after  so  long  time,     525 
Again  should  wish  to  see  this  wretched  exile  ; — 
Whence  this  desire?  came  it  from  the  angry  gods, 
To  punish  thus  their  inhumanity? 

Spy.  I  can  inform  you ;  for  perhaps  from  Greece 
Of  late  you  have  not  heard.  There  was  a  prophet, 
Son  of  old  Priam,  Helenus  by  name  ;  531 

Him  in  his  midnight  walks,  the  wily  chief, 
Ulysses,  curse  of  every  tongue,  espied  ; 
Took  him  aii^d  led  him  captive,  to  the  Greeks 
A  welcome  spoil.    Much  he  foretold  to  all ;  535 

And  added  last,  that  Troy  should  never  fall, 
TillPhiloctetes  from  this  isle  return'd. 
Ulysses  heard,  and  instant  promise  gave 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT    11. 


125 


To  fetch  him  hence ;  he  hoped  by  gentle  means 

To  gain  him  ;  those  successless,  force  at  last  540 

Could  but  compel  him:  he  would  go,  he  cried, 

And  if  he  fail'd,  his  head  should  pay  the  forfeit, 

I've  told  thee  all,  and  warn  thee  to  be  gone, 

Thou  and  thy  friend,  if  thou  wouldst  wish  to  save  him. 

Phi.  And  does  the  traitor  think  he  can  pursuade  me  ? 
As  well  might  he  pursuade  me  to  return  546 

From  death  to  life,  as  his  base  father  did. 

Spy.  Of  that  I  know  not :  I  must  to  my  ship. 
Farewell ;  and  may  the  gods  protect  you  both  !  [Exit. 

Phi.  Lead  me,  expose  me  to  the  Grecian  host !  550 
And  could  the  insolent  Ulysses  hope 
With  his  soft  flatteries  e'er  to  conquer  me  ? 
No ;  sooner  would  I  listen  lo  the  voice 
Of  that  fell  serpent,  whose  envenom'd  tongue 
Hath  lam'd  me  thus.     But  what  is  there  he  dare  not 
Or  say  or  do  I  know  he  will  be  here  556 

Ev'en  now  depend  on't;  therefore,  let's  away  ; 
Quick  let  the  sea  devide  us  from  Ulysses: 
Let  us  begone  ;  for  well  tim'd  expedition 
(The  task  performed)  bring  safety  and  repose  560 

Neo.  Soon  as  the  wind  permits  us,  we  embark, 
But  now  'tis  adverse. 

Phi.  Every  wind  is  fair, 

When  we  are  flying  from  misfortune, 

Neo.  True-, 

And  'tis  against  them  too. 

Phi.  Alas  !  no  storms 

547  Sisvphus,  imagined  by  many  to  be  the  father  of  Ubas. 
ses  ;  concerning  whom  a  superstitious  report  pfevailed,  that, 
having  on  his  death-bed  desired  his  wife  not  to  bury  him,  on 
his  arrival  in  the  infernal  regions,  he  complained  to  Pluto  of 
her  cruelty,  in  not  performing  the  funeral  obsequies,  and  was 
by  him  permitted,  on  promise  of  immediate  return,  to  revisit 
this  world,  in  order  to  punish  her  for  the  neglect ;  but  when 
he  came  to  earth,  being  unwilling  to  go  back  to  Tartarus,  he 
was  compelled  by  Mercury. 


126 


SOPHOCLES. 


Can  drive  back  fraud  and  rapine  from  their  prey.  565 

Neo.  I  *m  ready ;  take  what  may  be  necessary, 
And  follow  me. 

Phi.  I  want  not  much. 

Neo.  Perhaps 

My  ship  will  furnish  you. 

Phi.  There  is  a  plant 

Which  to  ray  wound  gives  some  relief:  I  must 
Have  that. 

Neo.  Is  there  aught  else  ? 

Phi.  Alas  !  my  bow  570 

I  had  forgot ;  I  must  not  lose  that  treasure. 

iPhiloctetes  steps  towards  his  (jrotto,  and  brings  out  his 
bow  and  arrows^^ 

Neo.  Are  these  the  famous  arrows,  then  ? 

Phi.  They  are. 

Neo.  And  may  I  be  permitted  to  behold, 
To  touch,  to  pay  my  adoration  to  them  ?  •74 

Phi.  In  these  my  son  !  in  every  thing  that's  mine, 
Thou  hast  a  right. 

Neo.                           But  if  it  be  a  crime, 
I  would  not;  otherwise 

Phi.  O  !  thou  art  full 

Of  piety ;  in  thee  it  is  no  crime  ; 
In  thee,  my  friend  !  by  whom  alone  I  look 
Once  more  with  pleasure  on  the  radiant  sun  ;  -OSO 

By  whom  I  live  ;  who  givest  me  to  return 
To  my  dear  father,  to  my  friends,  my  country. 
Sunk  as  I  was  beneath  my  foes,  once  more 
I  rise  to  triumph  o'er  them,  by  thy  aid. 
Behold  them,  touch  them,  but  return  them  to  me,  585 
And  boast  that  virture  which  on  thee  alone 
Bcstow'd  such  honor :  virtue  made  them  mine. 
I  can  deny  thee  nothing  :  he,  whose  heart 
Is  grateful,  can  alone  deserve  the  name 
Of  friend,  to  every  treasure  far  superior.  590 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT  II. 


J27 


595 


600 


604 


Neo.  Go  in.  / 

Phi.  Come  with  me ;  for  my  painful  wound  / 

Requires  thy  friendly  hand  to  help  me  onward. 

{Exeunt, ' 

CHORUS. 

strophe  I. 

Since  proud  Ixion  (doom'd  to  feel 

The  tortures  of  the  eternal  wheel. 

Bound  by  the  hand  of  angry  Jove) 
Received  the  due  rewards  of  impious  love  ; — 
Ne'er  was  distress  so  deep,  nor  wo  so  great, 
As  on  the  wretched  Philoctetes  wait ; 

Who,  ever  with  the  just  and  good, 

Guiltless  of  fraud  and  rapine  stood, 
And  the  fair  paths  of  virtue  still  pursued. 
Alone  on  this  hospitable  shore, 
Where  waves  for  ever  beat  and  tempests  roar, 
How  could  he  e'er  or  hope  or  comfort  know. 
Or  painful  life  suppport,  beneath  such  weight  of  wo  ? 

ANTISTROPHE   I. 

Exposed  to  the  inclement  skies, 
Deserted  and  forlorn  he  lies  ; 
A  No  friend  or  fellow-mourner  there, 
To  soothe  his  sorrows,  and  divide  his  care  ; 
^Or  seek  the  healing  plant,  of  power  to  'suagc 
%is  aching  wound,  and  mitigate  its  rage : 
But  if,  perchance,  awhile  released 
From  torturing  pain,  he  sinks  to  rest, 
Awaken'd  soon,  and  by  sharp  hunger  press'd, 
Compell'd  to  wander  forth  in  search  of  food. 
He  crawls  in  anguish  to  the  neighboring  wood  ; 
Ev'n  as  the  tottering  infant  in  despair. 
Who  mourns  an  absent  mother's  kind,  supporting  care. 

strophe  II. 
The  teeming  Earth,  which  mortals  still  supplies 
With  every  good,  to  him  her  seed  denies  ;  620 


610 


615 


128 


sophoci.es. 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT   III. 


129 


A  stranger  to  the  joy  that  flows 
From  the  kind  aid  which  man  on  man  bestows : 

Nor  food,  alas  !  to  him  was  given, 
Save  when  his  arrows  pierced  the  birds  of  heaven  ; 
Nor  e'er  did  Bacchus'  heart-expanding  bowl,     625 
For  ten  long  years,  relieve  his  cheerless  soul  : 
But  glad  was  he  his  eager  thirst  to  slake 
In  the  unwholesome  pool,  or  ever-stagnant  lake. 

ANTISTROPHE  II. 

But  now,  behold  the  joyful  captive  freed  : 

A  fairer  fate,  and  brighter  days  succeed  ;  630 

For  he  at  last  hath  found  a  friend 
Of  noblest  race,  to  save  and  to  defend  ; 

To  guide  him  with  protecting  hand, 
And  safe  restore  him  to  his  native  land ; 
On  Sperchius'  flowery  banks  to  join  the  throng  635 
Of  Melian  nymphs,  and  lead  the  choral  song 

On  QSta's  top,  which  saw  Alcides  rise. 
And  from  the  flaming  pilo  ascend  his  native  skies. 

ACT   III. 

NEOPTOLEMUS,   PHILOCTETES,   CHORUS. 

Neo.  Come,  Philoctetes !  why  thus  silent?    Where- 
fore 
This  sadden  terror  on  thee  ? 

Phi.  O  ! 

Neo.  Whence  is  it?     640 

Phi.  Nothing  ;  my  son  !  go  on. 

Neo.  Is  it  thy  wound 

That  pains  thee  thus  ? 

Phi.  No  ;  I  am  better  now  : 

635  Sperchius  was  a  river  in  Thessaly. 

636  Melos  was  an  island  near  Candia,  reckoned  amonx  the 
Cycladetf  and  now  called  Milo. 


\ 


O  I  gods ! 

Neo.        Why  dost  thou  call  thus  on  the  gods  ? 

Phi.  To  smile  propitious,  and  preserve  us O ! 

Neo.  Thou  art  in  misery.     Tell  me  :  wilt  thou  not  ? 
What  is  it  ? 

Phi.  O  my  son  !  I  can  no  longer  646 

Conceal  it  from  thee.    O  !  1  die,  I  perish  ! 
By  the  great  gods,  let  me  implore  thee,  now, 
This  moment,  if  thou  hast  a  sword,  O  !  strike  ; 
Cut  ofi'this  painful  limb,  and  end  my  being.  65<) 

Neo.  What  can  this  mean,  that  unexpected  thus 
It  should  torment  thee  ? 

Phi.  Know  you  not,  my  son  ? 

Neo.  What  is  the  cause  ? 

Phi.  Can  you  not  guess  it  ? 

Neo.  No. 

Phi.  Nor  I. 

Neo.  That's  stranger  still. 

Phi,  My  son,  my  son  ! 

Neo.  This  new  attack  is  terrible  indeed  !  655 

Phi.  'Tis  inexpressible  :  have  pity  on  me. 

Neo.  What  shall  I  do  ? 

Phi.      ~  Do  not  be  terrified, 

And  leave  me :  its  returns  are  regular. 
And,  like  the  traveller,  when  its  appetite 
Is  satisfied,  it  will  depart.     O  !  O  !  Go;> 

Neo.  Thou  art  oppressed  with  ills  on  every  side. 
Give  me  thy  hand :  come,  wilt  thou  lean  upon  me  ? 

Phi.  No  ;  but  these  arrows,  take,  preserve  them  for 
me 
A  little  while,  till  I  grow  better :  sleep 
Is  coming  on  me,  and  my  pains  will  cease-  6G5 

Let  me  be  quiet ;  if,  meantime,  our  foes 
Surprise  thee,  let  nor  force  nor  artifice 
Deprive  thee  of  the  great,  the  precious  trust 

SOPH.  I 


I 


130 


SOPHOCLES. 


I  have  reposed  in  thee  :  that  were  ruin 

To  thee,  and  to  thy  friend.  ^    .    -a  m(\ 

j^j,Q  Be  not  afraid ;        670 

No  hands  but  mine  shall  touch  them :  give  them  to  me. 
Phi    Receive  them,  son  !  and  let  it  be  thy  prayer 
Thev  bring  not  woes  on  thee,  as  they  have  done 
To  me,  and  to  Alcides.  \,Gives  him  the  bow  and  arrows. 

Ned  M^y  ^^*®  ^°^^ 

Forbid  it  ever  !  may  they  guide  our  course,  675 

And  speed  our  prosperous  sails  ! 
Pj^j  Alas !  my  son  ! 

I  fear  thy  vows  are  vain  ;  behold,  my  blood 

Flows  from  the  wound  :  O,  how  it  pains  me  !  now, 

It  comes,  it  hasten^  do  not,  do  not  leave  me  ; 

O,  that  Ulysses  felt  this  racking  torture,  ^^ 

Ev'n  to  his  inmost  soul  I  Again  it  comes. 

O  Agamemnon !  Menelaus  I  why 

Should  not  you  bear  these  pangs  as  I  have  done  . 

O  Death  !  where  art  thou.  Death  ?  so  often  call  d, 

Wilt  thou  not  listen  ?  wilt  thou  never  come  ?  t)»& 

Take  thou  the  Lemnian  fire,  my  generous  friend  ! 

Do  me  the  same  kind  office  which  J.  did 

For  my  Alcides  ;  these  are  thy  reward.   ^ 

He  gave  them  to  me  ;  thou  alone  deserv  st 

The  great  inheritance.    What  says  my  friend  ?      690 

What  says  my  dear  preserver  ?  O  !  where  art  thou  ? 

Neo.  I  mourn  thy  hapless  fate. 

p^j^  Be  of  good  cheer; 

Quick  my  disorder  comes,  and  goes  as  soon. 
I  only  beg  thee  not  to  leave  me  here. 

fiS6   Alluding,    most   probably,    to  the   generally   received 
op^fon  that  thf  forg^s^of  Vuk^^  were  in  the  island  of  Lem- 

"^fifi7  Philoctetes  had  attended  his  friend  Hercules  in  his  last 
moments  and  se?Sre  to  the  funeral  pile,  when  he  expired  on 
the  top  of  Mount  (Eta. 


PHILOCTETES.— ACT   III. 


131 


Neo.  Depend  on%  I  will  stay. 

Phi-  Wilt  thou  indeed  ?  695 

Neo.  Trust  me,  I  will. 

Phi.  I  need  not  bind  thee  to  it 

By  oath. 

Neo.  O,  no  ;  'twere  impious  to  forsake  thee. 

Phi.  Give  me  thy  hand,  and  pledge  thy  faith. 

Neo.  I  do. 

Phi.  Thither,  O  !  thither  lead. 

I  pointing  up  to  heaven. 

Neo.  What  say'st  thou  ?  where  ? 

Phi.  Above. 

Neo.  What,  lost  again  ?  Why  look'st  thou  thus  700 
On  that  bright  circle  ? 

Phi«  Let  me,  let  me  go. 

Neo.  [lays  hold  of  him.]  Where  wouldst  thou  go? 

Phi.  Loose  me. 

Neo.  I  will  not. 

Phi.  o  ! 

You'll  kill  me  if  you  do  not. 

Neo.  [lets  him  go,]  There,  then  ;  now 

Is  thy  mind  better  ? 

Phi.  O  !  receive  me,  earth  ; 

Receive  a  dying  man  :  here  must  I  lie ;  705 

For,  O  !  my  pain's  so  great,  I  cannot  rise. 
[Philoctetes  sinks  down  on  the  earth  near  the  entrance  qf  the  cave-l 

NEOPTOLEMUS,  CHORUS. 

Neo.  Sleep  hath  o'erta'en  him  :  see,  his  head  is  laid 
On  the  cold  earth  ;  the  balmy  sweat  thick  drops 
From  every  limb,  and  from  the  broken  vein  709 

Flows  the  warm  blood  :  let  us  indulge  his  slumbers. 

INVOCATION   TO   SLEEP. 

Cho.  Sleep,  thou  patron  of  mankind! 
Great  physician  of  the  mind  I 


132 


SOPHOCLES. 


715 


720 


725 


Who  dost  nor  pain  nor  sorrow  know; 

Sweetest  balm  of  every  wo  ; 

Mildest  sovereign  !  hear  us  now  ; 

Hear  thy  wretched  suppliant's  vow  : 

His  eyes  in  gentle  slumbers  close, 

And  continue  his  repose. 

Hear  thy  wretched  suppliant's  vow  : 

Great  physician  !  hear  us  now. 
And  now,  my  son  !  what  best  may  suit  thy  purpose 
Consider  well,  and  how  we  are  to  act. 
What  more  can  we  expect?  The  time  is  come ; 
For  better  far  is  opportunity 
Seized  at  the  lucky  hour,  than  all  the  counsels 
Which  wisdom  dictates,  or  whick  craft  inspires. 

Neo.  He  hears  us  not :  but  easy  as  it  is 
To  gain  the  prize,  it  would  avail  us  nothing 
Were  he  not  with  us.     Phoebus  hath  reserved 
For  him  alone  the  crown  of  victory  : 
But  thus  to  boast  of  what  we  could  not  do, 
And  break  our  word,  were  most  disgraceful  to  us. 

Cho.  The  gods  will  guide  us,  fear  it  not,  my  son ! 
But  what  thou  say'st,  speak  soft,  for  well  thou  know'st 
The  sick  man's  sleep  is  short :  he  may  awake         735 
And  hear  us  ;  therefore  let  us  hide  our  purpose. 
It  then  thou  think'st  as  he  does,--thou  know'st  whom, 
This  is  the  hour :  at  such  a  time,  ray  son  ! 
The  wisest  err ;  but  ma  k  me,  the  w  ind's  fair, 
And  Philoctetes  sleeps,  void  of  all  help, 
Lame,  impotent,  unable  to  resist. 
He  is  as  one  among  the  dead  ;  ev'n  now 
We'll  take  him  with  us ;  'twere  an  easy  task. 
Leave  it  to  me,  my  son  !  there  is  no  danger.  744 

Neo.  No  more  ;  his  eyes  are  open  :  see  he  moves. 

737  The  Chorus  here  means  Ulysses. 


730 


i 


740 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT    HI.  133 

PHILOCTETES,  NEOPTOLEMUS,   CHORUS. 

Phi.  [Awaking,]  O  fair  returning  light !  beyond  my 
hope ! 
You  too,  my  kind  preservers  !  O  my  son  ! 
I  could  not  think  you  would  have  stay'd  so  long 
In  kind  compassion  to  thy  friend.     Alas  ! 
The  Atridaj  never  would  have  acted  thus :  750 

But  noble  is  thy  nature,  and  thy  birth  ; 
And  therefore  little  did  my  wretchedness. 
Nor  from  my  wounds  the  noisome  stench  deter 
Thy  generous  heart.     I  have  a  little  respite. 
Help  me,  my  son  !  I'll  try  to  rise  ;  this  weakness  755 
Will  leave  me  soon,  and  then  we'll  go  together. 

Neo.  I  little  thought  to  find  thee  thus  restored. 
Trust  me,  I  joy  to  see  thee  free  from  pain. 
And  hear  thee  speak ;  the  marks  of  death  were  on  thee. 
Raise  thyself  up  ;  thy  friends  here,  if  thou  wilt,      760 
Shall  carry  thee,  'twill  be  no  burden  to  them. 
If  we  request  it. 

Phi,  No  ;  thy  hand  alone. 

I  will  not  trouble  them  ;  'twill  be  enough 
If  they  can  bear  with  me  and  my  distemper, 
When  we  embark. 

Neo.  Well,  be  it  so ;  but  rise.  765 

\_Pfdloctetes  rises. 

Phi.  O  never  fear ;  I'll  rise  as  well  as  ever.  lExeu7it. 

ACT    IV. 

NEOPTOLEMUS,   PHILOCTETES,    CHORUS. 

Neo.  How  shall  I  act  ? 

Phi.  What  says  my  son  ? 


Neo. 


Alas! 


134 


SOPHOCLES. 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT    IV. 


1.35 


I  know  not  what  to  say  ;  my  doubtful  mind — 

Phi.  Talk'd  you  of  doubts  ?  You  did  not  surely. 

Neo.  Ay,  , 

That's  my  misfortune.  ^  ; 

//    Phi.  Is  then  my  distress  t70 

Thejcause  at  last  you  will  not  take  me  with  you  ? 

Neo.  All  is  distress  and  misery,  when  we  act 
Against  ourjiature,  and  consent  to  ill. 

"Pfff.  But,  sure,  to  help  a  good  man  in  misfortunes 
Is  not  against  thy  nature. 

Neo.  Men  will  call  me        776 

A  villain ;  that  distracts  me. 

Phi,  Not  for  this, 

For  what  thou  mean'st  to  do,  thou  mayst  deserve  it. 

Neo.  What  shall  I  do  ?  Direct  me,  Jove  !  To  hide 
What  I  should  speak,  and  tell  a  base  untruth, 
Were  double  guilt. 

Phi.  He  purposes  at  last,  780 

I  fear  it  much,  to  leave  me. 

N  Eo.  Leave  thee  ?  No. 

But  how  to  make  thee  go  with  pleasure  hence. 
There  I  'm  distress'd. 

Phi.  I  understand  thee  not  ; 

What  means  my  son  ? 

Neo.  I  can  no  longer  hide 

The  dreadful  secret  from  thee  :  thou  art  going        785 
To  Troy,  ev'n  to  the  Greeks,  to  the  Atridae. 

Phi.  Alas  !  what  say'st  thou  ? 

Neo.  Do  not  weep,  but  hear  me. 

Phi.  What  must  I  hear  ?  What  wilt  thou  do  with  me  ? 

Neo.  First,  set  thee  free ;  then  carry  thee  my  friend  ! 

To  conquer  Troy. 

Phi.  Is  this  indeed  thy  purpose  ?     790 

Neo.  This  am  I  bound  to  do. 

Phi.  Then  am  I  lost, 


795 


800 


805 


Undone,  betray'd.    Canst  thou,  my  friend !  do  this  ? 
Give  me  my  arms  again. 

Neo.  It  cannot  be  : 

I  must  obey  the  powers  who  sent  me  hither: 
Jtnsttce  enjoins  :  the  comraon  cause  demands  it. 

PHnThoii  worst  of  men!  thou  vile  artificer 
Of  fraud  most  infamous  !  what  hast  thou  done  ? 
How  have  I  been  deceived  ?  Dost  thou  not  blush 
To  look  on  me,  to  behold  me  thus 
Beneath  thy  feet  imploring?  Base  betrayer ! 
To  rob  me  of  my  bow,  the  means  of  life. 
The  only  means ;  give  them,  restore  them  to  me  ; 
Do  not  take  all.    Alas  !  he  hears  me  not, 
Nor  deigns  to  speak  ;  but  casts  an  angry  look. 
That  says,  I  never  shall  be  free  again. 
O  mountains,  rivers,  rocks,  and  savage  herds ! 
To  you  I  speak  ;  to  you  alone  I  now 
Must  breathe  my  sorrows ;  you  are  wont  to  hear 
My  sad  complaints,  and  I  will  tell  you  all 
That  I  have  suflfer*d  from  Achilles*  son ; 
Who,  bound  by  solemn  oath  to  bear  me  hence 
To  my  dear,  native  soil,  now  sails  for  Troy. 
The  perjured  wretch  first  gave  his  plighted  hand, 
Then  stole  the  sacred  arrows  of  my  friend, 
The  son  of  Jove,  the  great  Alcides  :  those 
He  means  to  show  the  Greeks,  to  snatch  me  hence 
And  boast  his  prize  ;  as  if  poor  Philoctetes, 
This  empty  shade,  were  worthy  of  his  arm. 
Had  I  been  what  I  was,  he  ne'er  had  thus 
Subdued  me,  and  ev'n  now  to  fraud  alone 
He  owes  the  conquest :  I  have  been  betray'd. 
Give  me  my  arms  again,  and  be  thyself 
Once  more.     O  !  speak :  thou  wilt  not ;  then  I'm  lost. 
O  my  poor  hut !  again  I  come  to  thee, 
Naked  and  destitute  of  food  :  once  more  825 


810 


815 


8Q0 


136 


SOPHOCLES. 


PHILOCTETES.--ACT   IV. 


137 


Receive  me,  here  to  die  ;  for  now,  no  longer 

Shall  my  swift  arrow  reach  the  flying  prey, 

Or  on  the  mountains  pierce  the  wandering  herd  : 

I  shall  myself  afford  a  banquet  now 

To  those  I  used  to  feed  on  ;  they  the  hunters,         830 

And  I  their  easy  prey  :  so  shall  the  blood, 

Which  I  so  oft  have  shed,  be  paid  by  mine  ; 

And  all  this  too  from  him  whom  once  I  deem'd 

Stranger  to  fraud,  nor  capable  of  ill. 

And  yet  I  will  not  curse  thee,  till  I  know  835 

Whether  thou  still  retain'st  thy  horrid  purpose, 

Or  dost  repent  thee  of  it ;  if  thou  dost  not, 

Destruction  wait  thee ! 

Cho,  We  attend  your  pleasure. 

My  royal  lord  !  we  must  be  gone  ;  determine 
To  leave,  or  take  him  with  us. 

Neo.  His  distress  840 

Doth  move  me  much  :  'trust  me,  I  long  have  felt 
Compassion  for  him. 

Phi.  O  !  then  by  the  gods 

Pity  me  now,  my  son  !  nor  let  mankind 
Reproach  thee  for  a  fraud  so  base. 

Neo.  Alas ! 

What  shall  I  do?  Would  I  were  still  at  Scyros  !     815 
For  I  am  most  unhappy. 

Phi.  O  my  son 

Thou  art  not  base  by  nature,  but  misguided, 
By  those  who  are,  to  deeds  unworthy  of  thee  : 
Turn  then  thy  fraud  on  them  who  best  deserve  it, 
Restore  my  arms,  and  leave  me. 

Neo.  Speak,  my  friends !        850 

What's  to  be  done  ? 


Ulys. 


Enter  Ulysses. 

Ha !  dost  thou  hesitate  ? 


Traitor  !  be  gone !  give  me  the  arms. 

Phi.  Ah  me ! 

Ulysses  here  ? 

Ulys.  Ay  !  'tis  Ulysses'  self 

That  stands  before  thee. 

Pni.  Then  Vm  lost,  betray'd  : 

This  was  the  cruel  spoiler, 

Ulys.  Doubt  it  not :  855 

'Twas  I ;  I  do  confess  it. 

Phi.  {to  Neoptolemiis.]     O  my  son  ! 
Give  me  them  back. 

Ulys.  It  must  not  be;  with  them 

Thyself  must  go,  or  we  shall  drag  thee  hence. 

Phi.  And  will  they  force  me  ?  0,thou  daring  villain  ! 

Ulys.  They  will,  unless  thou  dost  consent  to  go. 

Phi.  Wilt  thou,  O  Lemnos  !  wilt  thou,  mighty  Vul- 
can !  861 
With  thy  all -conquering  fire,  permit  me  thus 
To  be  torn  from  thee  ? 

Ulys.  Know,  great  Jove  himself 

Doth  here  preside :  he  hath  decreed  thy  fate  ; 
I  but  perform  his  will. 

Phi.  Detested  wretch  865 

Makest  thou  the  gods  a  cover  for  thy  crime  ? 
Do  they  teach  falsehood  ? 

Ulys.  No  ;  they  taught  me  truth  ; 

And  therefore  hence :  that  way  thy  journey  lies. 

{Pointing  to  the  sea. 

Phi.  It  doth  not. 

Ulys.  But,  I  say,  it  must  be  so. 

Phi.  And  Philoctetes,  then,  was  born  a  slave  !    870 

I  did  not  know  it. 

Ulys.  No,  I  mean  to  place  thee 

Ev'n  with  the  noblest,  ev'n  with  those  by  whom 
Proud  Troy  must  perish. 

Phi.  Never  will  I  go, 


^1 


138 


SOPHOCLES. 


Befall  what  may,  whilst  this  deep  cave  is  open 
To  bary  all  my  sorrows. 

Ulys.  What  wouldst  do  ?  875 

Phi.  Here  throw  me  down,  dash  out  my  desperate 
brains 
Against  this  rock,  and  sprinkle  it  with  my  blood. 

Ulys.  [to  the  Chorus,]  Seize  and  prevent  him. 

[They  seize  him. 

Phi.  Manacled  !  O  hands  ! 

How  helpless  are  you  now  !    Those  arms,  which  once 
Protected,  thus  torn  from  you  !    Thou  abandoned,  880 

[to  Ulysses. 
Thou  shameless  wretch !  from  whom  nortruth  nor  justice 
Naught  that  becomes  the  generous  mind,  can  flow, 
How  hast  thou  used  roe !  how  betray'd  !     Suborn'd 
This  stranger,  this  poor  youth,  who,  worthier  far 
To  be  my  friend  than  thine,  was  only  here  886 

Thy  instrument :  he  l^new  not  what  he  did, 
And  now,  thou  seest,  repents  him  of  the  crime 
Which  brought  such  guilt  on  him,  such  woes  on  me. 
But  thy  foul  soul,  which,  from  its  dark  recess 
Trembling  looks  forth,  beheld  him  void  of  art;        890 
Unwilling  as  he  was,  instructed  him, 
And  made  him  soon  a  master  in  deceit. 
I  am  thy  prisoner  now  ;  ev'n  now  thou  mean'st 
To  drag  me  hence,  from  this  unhappy  shore, 
Where  first  thy  malice  left  me,  a  poor  exile,  895 

Deserted,  friendless,  and  though  living,  dead 
To  all  mankind.    Perish  the  vile  betrayer ! 
O !  I  have  cursed  thee  often,  but  the  gods 
Will  never  hear  the  prayers  of  Philoctetes. 
Life  and  its  joys  are  thine  ;  whilst  I,  unhappy,      900 
Am  but  the  scorn  of  thee,  and  the  Artridae, 
Thy  haughty  masters  :  fraud  and  force  com  peird  thee 

902  Ulysses,  unwilling  to  go  amoDg  the  other  chiefs  to  the 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT  IV. 


139 


905 


915 


r 


Or  thou  hadst  never  saiFd  with  them  to  Troy. 

I  lent  my  willing  aid ;  with  seven  brave  ships 

I  plough'd  the  main  to  serve  them  :  in  return, 

They  cast  me  forth,  disgraced  me,  left  me  here. 

Thou  say'st,  they  did  it ;  they  impute  the  crime 

To  thee  ;  and  what  will  you  do  with  me  now  ? 

And  whither  must  I  go  ?  What  end,  what  purpose, 

Could  urge  thee  to  it  ?  I  am  nothing,  lost  910 

And  dead  already  :  wherefore,  tell  me,  wherefore 

Am  I  not  still  the  same  detested  burden, 

Loathsome  and  lame  ?  Again  must  Philoctetes 

Disturb  your  holy  rites  ?  If  I  am  with  you. 

How  can  you  make  libations  ?  That  was  once 

Your  vile  pretence  for  inhumanity. 

O,  may  you  perish  for  the  deed  !  The  gods 

Will  grant  it,  sure,  if  justice  be  their  care  ; 

And  that  it  is,  I  know.    You  had  not  left 

Your  native  soil,  to  seek  a  wretch  like  me. 

Had  not  some  impulse  from  the  powers  above. 

Spite  of  yourselves,  ordain'd  it !  O  my  country ! 

And  you,  O  gods  !  who  look  upon  this  deed, 

Punish,  in  pity  to  me,  punish  all 

The  guilty  band.     Could  I  behold  them  perish, 

My  wounds  were  nothing;  that  would  heal  them  all. 

Cho.  [to  Ulysses,]  Observe,  my  lord !  what  bitter- 
ness of  soul 
His  words  express ;  he  bends  not  to  misfortune, 
But  seems  to  brave  it. 

Ulys.  I  could  answer  him. 

Were  this  a  time  for  words ;  but  now,  no  more 
Than  this,— I  act  as  best  befits  our  purpose. 
Where  virtue,  truth,  and  justice  are  required, 
Ulysses  yields  to  none  :  I  was  not  born 

siege  of  Troy,  feigned  himself  mad ;    but  being  detected  by 
Palamedes,  was  after  all  obliged  to  join  them. 


920 


925 


^ 


930 


140 


SOPHOCLES. 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT  IV. 


141 


To  be  o'ercome,  and  yet  submit  to  thee. 

Let  him  remain.     Thv  arrows  shall  suffice  ;  935 

We  want  thee  not ;  Teucer  can  draw  thy  bow 

As  well  as  thou  ;  myself,  with  equal  strength, 

Can  aim  the  deadly  shaft,  with  equal  skill. 

What  could  thy  presence  do  ?  Let  Lemnos  keep  thee. 

Farewell !  Perhaps  the  honors,  once  designed         940 

For  thee,  may  be  reserved  to  grace  Ulysses. 

Phi.  Alas  !  shall  Greece  ihen  see  my  deadliest  foe 
Adorn'd  with  arms  which  I  alone  should  bear  ? 

Ulys.  No  more  :  I  must  be  gone. 

Phi.  [to  Neoptolemus,]  Son  of  Achilles  ! 

Thou  wilt  not  leave  me  too  ?  I  must  not  lose  945 

Thy  converse,  thy  assistance. 

Ulys.  [to  Neoptolemus.]  Look  not  on  him  : 

Away,  I  charge  thee  ;  'twould  be  fatal  to  us. 

Phi.  [to  the  Chorus.]  Will  you  forsake  me,  friends? 
Dwells  no  compassion 
Within  your  breasts  for  me  ? 

Cho.  [j)oiniing  to  Neoptolemus.]  He  is  our  master  ; 
We  speak  and  act  but  as  his  will  directs.  950 

Neo.  I  know  he  will  upbraid  me  for  this  weakness ; 
But  His  my  nature,  and  I  must  consent, 
Since  Philoctetes  asks  it :  stay  you  with  him. 
Till  to  the  gods  our  pious  prayers  we  offer, 
And  all  things  are  prepared  for  our  departure  ;       955 
Perhaps,  meantime,  to  better  thoughts  his  mind 
May  turn  relenting.    We  must  go  :  remember, 
When  we  shall  call  you,  follow  instantly. 

{^Exit  with  Ulysses, 

Phi.  O  my  poor  hut !  and  is  it  then  decreed 
Again  I  come  to  thee  to  part  no  more,  960 

To  end  my  wretched  days  in  this  sad  cave, 
The  scene  of  all  my  woes?  For  whither  now 
Can  I  betake  me  ?  who  will  feed,  support, 


Or  cherish  Philoctetes?   Not  a  hope 
Remains  for  me.     O !  that  the  impetuous  storms    965 
Would  bear  me  with  them  to  some  distant  clime ! 
For  I  must  perish  here, 

Cho.  Unhappy  man ! 

Thou  hast  provoked  thy  fate;  thyself  alone 
Art  to  thyself  a  foe,  to  scorn  the  good 
Which  wisdom  bids  thee  take,  and  choose  misfortune. 

Phi.  Wretch  that  T  am,  to  perish  here  alone  !     971 
O !  I  shall  see  the  face  of  man  no  more. 
Nor  shall  ray  arrows  pierce  their  winged  prey. 
And  bring  me  sustenance  !  Such  vile  delusions 
Used  to  betray  me.     O!  that  pains,  like  those        975 
I  feel,  might  reach  the  author  of  my  woes! 

Cho.  The  gods  decreed  it ;  we  are  not  to  blame  : 
Heap  not  thy  curses,  therefore,  on  the  guiltless. 
But  take  our  friendship. 

Phi.  [pointing  to  the  sea  shore,']  I  behold  him  there  : 
Ev'n  now  I  see  him  laughing  me  to  scorn,  980 

On  yonder  shore,  and  in  his  hands  the  darts 
He  waves  triumphant,  which  no  arms  but  thes€ 
Had  ever  borne.     O,  my  dear,  glorious  treasure  ! 
Hadst  thou  a  mind  to  feel  the  indignity, 
How  wouldst  thou  grieve  to  change  thy  noble  master. 
The  friend  of  great  Alcides,  for  a  wretch  986 

So  vile,  so  base,  so  impious  as  Ulysses ! 

Cho.  Justice  will  ever  rule  the  good  man's  tongue, 
Nor  from  his  lips  reproach  and  bitterness 
Invidious  flow.    Ulysses,  by  the  voice  990 

Of  Greece  appointed,  only  sought  a  friend 
To  join  the  common  cause,  and  serve  his  country. 

Phi.  Hear  me,  ye  wing'd  inhabitants  of  air! 
And  you,  who  on  these  mountains  love  to  feed. 
My  savage  prey,  whom  once  I  could  pursue;  995 

Fearful  no  more  of  Philoctetes,  fly 


142 


SOPHOCLES. 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT   IV. 


143 


This  hollow  rock  ;  I  cannot  hurt  yoa  now. 

You  need  not  dread  to  enter  here  :  alas  ! 

You  now  may  come,  and  in  your  turn  regale 

On  these  poor  limbs,  when  I  shall  be  no  more.      1000 

Where  can  I  hope  for  food  ?  or  who  can  breathe 

This  vital  air,  when  life-preserving  earth 

No  longer  will  assist  him  ? 

Cho.  By  the  gods 

Tjct  me  intreat  thee,  if  thou  dost  regard 
Our  master  and  thy  friend,  come  to  him  now,        1005 
Whilst  thou  mayst  'scape  this  sad  calamity. 
Who  but  thyself  would  choose  to  be  unhappy. 
That  could  prevent  it  ? 

Phi.  O  !  you  have  brought  back 

Once  more  the  sad  remembrance  of  my  griefs. 
Why,  why,  my  friends  !  would  you  afflict  me  thus  ? 

Cho.  Afflict  thee,  how  ? 

Phi.  Think  you,  I'll  e'er  return    101 1 

To  hateful  Troy. 

Cho.  We  would  advise  thee  to  it. 

Phi.  I'll  hear  no  more.    Go,  leave  me. 

Cho.  That  we  shall 

Most  gladly  :  to  the  ships,  my  friends  !  away,  [going- 
Obey  your  orders. 

Phi.  [stops  themj]  By  protecting  Jove,  1015 

Who  hears  the  suppliant's  prayer,  do  not  forsake  me. 

Cho.  [returning.]  Be  calm  then. 

Phi.  O  my  friends  !  will  you  then  stay  ? 

Do,  by  the  gods  I  beg  you. 

Cho.  Why  that  groan  ? 

Phi.  Alas !  I  die !  My  wound,  ^my  wound  !  Here- 
after 1019 
What  can  I  do  ?  You  will  not  leave  me  ;   hear— 

Cho.  What  canst  thou  say,  we  do  not  know  already  ? 

Phi.  O'erwhelm'd  by  such  a  storm  of  griefs  as  I  am, 


You  should  not  thus  resent  a  madman's  frensy. 

Cho.  Comply,  then,  and  be  happy. 

Phi.  Never,  never, 

(Be  sure  of  that)  though  thunder-bearing  Jove      1025 
Should  with  his  lightnings  blast  me,  would  I  go. 
No  ;  let  Troy  perish,  perish  ail  the  host 
Who  sent  me  here  to  die  ;  but,  O  my  friends  ! 
Grant  me  this  last  request. 

Cho.  What  is  it?  Speak.  1029 

Phi.  a  sword,  a  dart,  some  instrument  of  death. 

Cho.  What  wouidst  thou  do  ? 

Phi.  I'd^  ^i^^k  ofif  every  limb. 

Death  ;  my  soul  longs  for  death. 

Cho.  But  wherefore  is  it  ? 

Phi.  ril  seek  my  father. 

Cho.  Whither  P 

Phi.  In  the  tomb  ; 

There  he  must  be.     O  Scyros  !  O  my  country  ! 
How  could  I  bear  to  see  thee  as  I  am?  1035 

I,  who  had  left  thy  sacred  shores,  to  aid 
The  hateful  sons  of  Greece  !  O  misery  ! 

[Goes  into  the  cave. 
[Exeunt. 

ACT  V. 

ULYSSES,    NEOPTOLEMUS,   CHORUS. 

Cho.  Ere  now  we  should  have  ta'en  thee  to  our  ships, 

But  that  advancing  this  way  I  behold 

Ulysses,  and  with  him  Achilles'  son.  1040 

LFlys.  Why  this  return?  Wherefore  this  haste  ? 

Neo.  I  come 

To  purge  me  of  my  crimes. 

Ulys.  Indeed  !  what  crimes  ? 

Neo.  My  blind  obedience  to  the  Grecian  host. 
And  to  thy  counsels. 

Uly§..  Hast  thou  practised  aught 


,.JK^ 


144  SOPHOCLES. 

Base,  or  unworthy  of  thee  ? 

Ned.  Yes,  by  art  1045 

And  vile  deceit  betrayM  the  unhappy. 

Ulys.  Whom? 

Alas  !  what  mean  you  ? 

Neo.  Nothing  ;  but  the  son 

Of  Psean- 

Ulys.  Ha!  what  wouldst  thou  do?  My  heart 

Misgives  me.  [aside.] 

^£0,  I  have  ta'en  his  arras,  and  now 

Ulys.  Thou  wouldst  restore  them  !   Speak  !   is  that 
thy  purpose?  ^^^* 

Almighty  Jove ! 
Neo.  Unjustly  should  I  keep 

Another*s  right. 
Ulys.  Now,  by  the  gods,  thou  mean  st 

To  mock  me  ;  dost  thou  not  ? 

^^Q^  If  to  speak  truth 

Be  mockery. 
Ulys.  And  does  Achilles'  son 

Say  this  to  me? 

I^Jeo^  Why  force  me  to  repeat        1(X5d 

My  words  so  often  to  thee  ? 

Ulys.  Once  to  hear  them, 

Is  once  indeed  too  much. 

l^jgQ^  Doubt  then  no  more, 

For  I  have  told  thee  all. 
^jlys.  There  are,  remember, — 

There  are,  who  may  prevent  thee. 

j^gQ^  Who  shall  dare 

To  thwart  my  purpose  ?  . 

Ulys.  All  the  Grecian  host,        1060 

And  with  them  I. 

jiJeo.  Wise  as  thou  art,  Ulysses ! 

Thou  talk'st  most  idly. 

Ulys.  Wisdom  is  not  thine, 


PHILOCTETES.— ACT  V. 


145 


1065 


Either  in  word  or  deed. 

Neo.  Know,  to  be  just 

Is  better  far  than  to  be  wise, 

'-'''Ys.  But  where, 

Where  is  the  justice,  thus  unauthorised, 
To  give  a  treasure  back  thou  owest  to  me, 
And  to  my  counsels  ? 

^^o.  I  have  done  a  wrong, 

And  I  will  try  to  make  atonement  for  it. 

Ulys.  Dost  thou  not  fear  the  power  of  Greece  ? 
Neo.  I  fear 

Nor  Greece,  nor  thee,  when  I  am  doing  right.       1070 

Ulys.  'Tis  not  with  Troy,  then,  we  contend,  but 

thee. 
Neo.  I  know  not  that. 

Ulys.  Seest  thou  this  hand  ?    Behold, 

It  grasps  my  sword. 

Neo.  Mine  is  alike  prepared, 

Nor  seeks  delay. 

Ulys.  But  I  will  let  thee  go  :  1074 

Greece  shall  know  all  thy  guilt,  and  shall  revenge  it. 

lEjcit  Ulysses.  * 
Neo.    Twas  w  ell  determined  :  always  be  as  wise 
As  now  thou  art,  and  thou  mayst  live  in  safety. 

[.Approaching  towards  the  cave. 
Ho!  son  of  Paean!  Philoctetes  !  leave 
Thy  rocky  habitation,  and  come  forth.  1079 

Phi.  [from  the  cave,]   What  noise  was  that?     Who 
calls  on  Philoctetes  ?  [He  comes  out, 

Alas  !  what  would  you,  strangers  ?     Are  you  come 
To  heap  fresh  miseries  on  me? 

Neo.  Be  of  comfort, 

And  hear  the  tidings  which  I  bring. 


Phi, 


I  dare  not 


Thy  flattering  tongue  already  hath  betray'd  me.    1084 


SOPH. 


146 


SOPHOCL£S« 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT   V. 


W^ 


Neo.  And  is  there,  then,  no  room  for  penitence  t 
Phi:  Such  were  thy   words,  when,  seemingly  sin- 
cere, 
Yet  meaning  ill,  thou  stolest  my  arms  away. 

Neo.  But  now  it  is  not  so.     I  only  came 
To  know  if  thou  art  resolute  to  stay. 
Or  sail  with  us.  , 

Phi.  No  more  of  that ;  'tis  vam        1090 

And  useless  all. 

Neo.  Art  thou,  then,  fix'd  ? 

Phi.  I  am ; 

It  is  impossible  to  say  how  firmly. 

Neo.  I  thought  I  could  have  moved  thee,  but  I  'te 

done. 
Phi.  'Tis  well  thou  hast ;  thy  labor  had  been  vain  i 
for  never  could  my  soul  esteem  the  man  1095 

Who  robbM  me  of  my  dearest,  best  possession, 
And  now  would  have  me  listen  to  his  counsels. 
Unworthy  offspring  of  the  best  of  men ! 
Perish  the  Atridae  !  perish  first  Ulysses ! 
Perish  thyself! 
•      Neo.  Withhold  thy  imprecations, 

And  take  thy  arrows  back. 

Phi.  a  second  time 

Wouldst  thou  deceive  me  ? 

Neo.  By  the  almighty  power 

Of  sacred  Jove,  I  swear. 

Phi.  O  joyful  sound ! 

If  thou  say'st  truly. 

Neo.  Let  my  actions  speak : 

Stretch  forth  thy  hand,  and  take  thy  arms  again.  1105 

IGives  him  the  arrows. 
Enter  Ulysses. 
Ulys.  Witness,  ye  gods !  here  in  the  name  of  Greece 
And  the  Atridae,  I  forbid  it ! 
Phi.  Ha ! 


. 


What  voice  is  that  ?  UlySses  ? 

Ulys.  Ay,  'tis  I  ; 

I,  who  perforce  will  carry  thee  to  Troy 
Spite  of  Achilles'  son. 

Phi.  [raising  his  arm  as  intending  to  throw  an  arrow  at 
Ulysses.]  Not  if  I  aim  1110 

This  shaft  aright. 

Neo.  [laying  hold  of  him.]  Now,  by  the  gods,  I  beg 
thee, 
Stop  thy  rash  hand. 

Phi.  Let  go  my  arm. 

Neo.  I  will  not. 

Phi.  Shall  I  not  slay  my  enemy  ? 

Neo.  O  no; 

'T would  cast  dishonor  on  us  both. 

Phi.  Thou  know'st 

These  Grecian  chiefs  are  loud  pretending  boasters, 
Brave  but  in  tongue,  and  cowards  in  the  field.      1116 

Neo.  I  know  it ;  but  remember,  I  restored 
Thy  arrows  to  thee,  and  thou  hast  no  cause 
For  rage,  or  for  complaint  against  thy  friend. 

Phi.  I  own  thy  goodness ;  thou  hast  shown  thyself 
Worthy  thy  birth  ;  no  son  of  Sisyphus,  1121 

But  of  Achilles,  who  on  earth  preserved 
A  fame  unspotted,  and  amongst  the  dead 
Still  shines  superior,  an  illustrious  shade. 

Neo.  Joyful  I  thank  thee  for  a  father's  praise,  1125 
And  for  my  own  ;  but  listen  to  my  words, 
And  mark  me  well.     Misfortunes,  which  the  gods 
Inflict  on  mortals,  they  perforce  must  bear  ; 
But  when,  oppress'd  by  voluntary  woes,  1131 

They  make  themselves  unhappy,  they  deserve  not 
Our  pity  or  our  pardon  ;  such  art  thou. 
Thy  savage  soul,  impatient  of  advice. 
Rejects  the  wholesome  counsel  of  thy  friend> 


148 


SOPHOCLES. 


And  treats  him  like  a  foe ;  but  I  will  speak, 
Jove  be  my  witness  !  therefore  hear  my  words,     1135 
/^  And  grave  them  in  thy  heart.     The  dire  disease 
Thoa  long  hast  suflFer'd  isjrom  angry  Heaven, 
Which  thus  aflBlicts  thee  for  thy  rash  approach 
To  tiiefell  serpent,  which  on  Chrysa's  shore 
WatcTi*d  o*er  the  sacred  treasures  :  know,  besides    1140 
That  whilst  the  sun  in  yonder  east  shall  rise, 
Or  in  the  west  decline,  disteraper'd  still 
Thou  ever  shalt  remain,  unless  to  Troy 
Thy  willing  mind  transport  thee:   there  the  sons 
Of  Esculapius  shall  restore  thee  ;  there,  1145 

By  my  assistance,  shalt  thou  conquer  Troy  ; 
I  know  it  well :  for  that  prophetic  sage, 
The  Trojan  captive  Helenus,  foretold 
It  should  be  so  ;  '  proud  Troy,'  he  added  then, 
*  xSiis  very  year  must  fall ;  if  not,  my  life  1 150 

Shall  answer  for  the  falsehood  :'  therefore  yield  ; 
Thus  to  be  deem'd  the  first  of  Grecians  ;  thus 
By  Paean's  favorite  sons  to  be  restored » 
And  thus  mark'd  out  the  conquerer  of  Troy, 
Is  sure  distinguished  happiness. 

Pm.  Olife  1155 

Detested!  why  wilt  thou  still  keep  me  here  ? 
Why  not  dismiss  me  to  the  tomb  ?    Alas  ! 
What  can  I  do  ?     How  can  I  disbelieve 
My  generous  friend  ?  I  must  consent,  and  yet 
Can  I  do  this,  and  look  upon  the  sun  ?  1160 

Can  I  behold  my  friends  ?    Will  they  forgive, 
Will  they  associate  with  me  after  this  ? 
And  you,  ye  heavenly  orbs,  that  roll  around  me  ! 
How  will  you  bear  to  see  me  link'd  with  those 
Who  have  destroy 'd  me  ;  ev'n  the  sons  of  Atreus,  1165 
Ev'n  with  Ulysses,  source  of  all  my  woes  ? 
My  sufferings  past  I  could  forget ;  but,  O  ! 


i 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT  V. 


149 


I  dread  the  woes  to  come  ;  for  well  I  know, 
When  once  the  mind  's  corrupted,  it  brings  forth 
Unnumbered  crimes,  and  ills  to  ills  succeed.  1170 

It  moves  my  wonder  much,  that  thou,  my  friend, 
Shouldst  thus  advise  me,  whom  it  ill  becomes 
To  think  of  Troy  :  I  rather  had  believed 
Thou  wouldst  have  sent  me  far,  far  off  from  those 
Who  have  defrauded  thee  of  thy  just  right,  1 175 

And  gave  thy  arms  away.     Are  these  the  men 
Whom  thou  wouldst  serve,— whom  thou  wouldst  thus 

.  compel  me 
To  save  and  to  defend  ?  It  must  not  be. 
Remember,  O  my  son  !  the  solemn  oath 
Thou  gavest  to  bear  me  to  my  native  soil.  1180 

Do  this,  my  friend  !  remain  thyself  at  Scyros, 
And  leave  these  wretches  to  be  wretched  still. 
Thus  shalt  thou  merit  double  thanks,  from  me 
And  from  ray  father  ;  nor  by  succor  given 
To  vile  betrayers  prove  thyself  as  vile.  1185 

Neo.  Thou  say'st  most  truly !  yet  confide  in  Hea- 
ven, 
Trust  te  thy  friend,  and  leave  this  hated  place. 

Phi.    Leave  it^?     For   whom?     For  Troy  and  the 
Atridae  ? 
These  wounds  forbid  it. 

Neo.  They  shall  all  be  healed, 

Where  I  will  carry  thee. 

Phi.  An  idle  tale  1100 

Thou  teirst  me,  surely,  dost  thoa  not  ? 

Neo.  X  speak 

What  best  may  serve  us  both. 

Phi.  Bat,  speaking  thas. 

Dost  thoa  not  fear  the  offended  gods  ? 

Neo.  Why  fear  them  ? 

Can  I  offend  the  gods  by  doing  good  ? 


160 


SOPHOCLES. 


PHILOCTETES.— ACT  V. 


161 


Phi.   What  ^ood  ?    To  whom  ?    To  me,  or  to  the 

Atridae  ? 
Neo.  I  am  thy  friend,  and  therefore  would  persuade 

thee. 

Phi.  And  therefore  give  me  to  my  foes. 

Neo.  Alas ! 

Let  not  misfortunes  thus  transport  thy  soul 
To  rage  and  bitterness. 

Phi.  Thou  wouldst  destroy  me. 

Neo.  Thou  know'st  me  not. 

Phi.  I  know  the  Atridae  well,  1200 

Who  left  me  here. 

Neo.  They  did  ;  yet  they,  perhaps, 

Ev*n  they,  O  Philoctetes !  may  preserve  thee. 

Phi.  I  never  will  to  Troy. 

Neo.  What 's  to  be  done  ? 

Since  I  can  ne'er  persuade  thee,  I  submit : 
Live  on  in  misery. 

Phi.  Then  let  me  suffer ;  1205 

Suffer  I  must ;  but,  O  !  perform  thy  promise  ; 
Think  on  thy  plighted  faith,  and  guard  me  home 
Instant,  my  friend ;  nor  ever  call  back  Troy 
To  my  remembrance.    I  have  felt  enough 
From  Troy  already. 

Neo.  Let  us  go ;  prepare.  1310 

Phi.  O  glorious  sound ! 

Neo.  Bear  thyself  up. 

Phi.  I  will, 

If  possible. 

Neo.               But  how  shall  I  escape 
The  wrath  of  Greece  ? 
"FhC      O  !  think  not  of  it. 

Neo.                              '"                          What 
If  they  should  waste  my  kingdom  ? 
HPhT. I  '11  be  there, 


f 


1220 


Neo.  Alas !  what  canst  thou  do  ? 

Pjj,^  And  with  these  arrows  1216 

OfmyAlcides—  ,  , 

Neo.  Ha!  what  say 'st.  thou? 

Phi.  "  »"^^ 

Thy  foes  before  me  ;  not  a  Greek  shall  dare 
Approach  thy  borders. 

Neo.  I^  *1>o"  ^'**  ^^  ^^**' 

Salute  the  earth,  and  instant  hence.    Away  I 

Hercules  descends  and  speaks* 
Stay,  son  of  Psean  !  Lo !  to  thee  'tis  given 
Once  more  to  see  and  hear  thy  loved  Alcides, 
Who  for  thy  sake  hath  left  yon  heavenly  mansions, 
And  comes  to  tell  thee  the  decrees  of  Jove  ; 
To  turn  thee  from  the  paths  thou  mean'st  to  tread. 
And  guide  thy  footsteps  right :  therefore  attend.  1225 
Thou  know'st  what  toils,  what  labors  I  endured, 
Ere  I  by  virture  gain'd  immortal  fame ; 
Thou  too,  like  me,  by  toils  must  rise  to  glory  ; 
Thou  too  must  suffer  ere  thou  canst  be  happy. 
Hence  with  thy  friend  to  Troy,  where  honor  calls,  1230 
Where  health  awaits  thee  ;  where,  by  virtue  raised 
To  highest  rank,  and  leader  of  the  war, 
Paris,  its  hateful  author,  shalt  thou  slay. 
Lay  waste  proud  Troy,  and  send  thy  trophies  home. 
Thy  valor's  due  reward,  to  glad  thy  sire.  1236 

On  CEta's  top,  the  gifts  which  Greece  bestows. 
Must  thou  reserve  to  grace  my  funeral  pile. 
And  be  a  monument  to  after  ages 
Of  these  all-conquering  arms.    Son  of  Achilles  ! 

\lurning  to  Neoptolemus, 

(For  now  to  thee  I  speak)  remember  this  ;  1240 

Without  his  aid  thou  canst  not  conquer  Troy, 
Nor  Philoctetes  without  thee  succeed. 


152 


SOPHOCLES. 


PHILOCTETES. — ACT   V. 


153 


Go,  then  ;  and,  like  two  lions  in  the  field 

Roaming  for  prej-,  guard  you  each  other  well : 

My  Esculapius  will  I  send  ev'n  now  1245 

To  heal  thy  wounds ;  then  go,  and  conquer  Troy, 

But  when  you  lay  the  vanquished  city  waste, 

Be  careful  that  you  venerate  the  gods  ; 

For  far  above  all  other  gifts,  doth  Jove, 

The  almighty  father,  hold  true  piety.  1250 

Whether  we  live  or  die,  that  still  survives 

Beyond  the  reach  of  fate,  and  is  immortal. 

Neo.  Once  more  to  let  me  hear  that  wish'd-for  voice, 
To  see  thee  after  so  long  a  time,  was  bliss 
I  could  not  hope  for.     O  !  I  will  obey  1255 

Thy  great  commands  most  willingly. 

Phi.  And  I. 

Her.  Delay  not,  then  ;  for  lo  !  a  prosperous  wind 

Swells  in  thy  sail :  the  time  invites.     Adieu  ! 

[Hercules  re-ascends. 
Phi.  I  will  but  pay  my  salutations  here, 

And  instantly  depart.     To  thee,  my  cave  !  1260 

Where  I  so  long  have  dwelt,  I  bid  farewell ; 

And  you,  ye  nymphs  !  who  on  the  watery  plains 

Deign  to  reside,  farewell  I  Farewell,  the  noise 

Of  beating  waves,  which  I  so  oft  have  htiard  1264 

From  the  rough  sea,  which,  by  the  black  winds  driven, 

O'erwhelmM  me  shivering.     Oft  the  Hermaean  mount 

Echoed  my  plaintive  voice,  by  wintry  storms 

Afflicted,  and  return'd  me  groan  for  groan. 

Now,  ye  fresh  fountains !  each  Lycsean  spring  ! 

I  leave  you  now.    Alas  !  I  little  thought  1270 

To  leave  you  ever  :  and  thou  sea-girt  isle, 

Lemnos,  farewell !     Permit  me  to  depart 

By  thee  unblamed,  and  with  a  prosperous  gale 


To  go  where  fate  demands,  where  kindest  friends 
By  counsel  urge  me,  where  all-powerful  Jove        1275 
In  his  unerring  wisdom  hath  decreed. 

Cho.  Let  us  be  gone,  and  to  the  ocean  nymphs 
Our  humble  prayers  prefer,  that  they  would  all 
Propitious  smile,  and  grant  us  safe  return. 


1266  A  mountain  in  Lemnos. 


ANTIGONE. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

Crbon,  king  of  Thebes. 

EuRYDiCB,  wifeofCreon. 

H^MON,  son  of  Creon. 

Antigone,  Daughter  of  (Edipus, 

IsMENE,  sister  of  Antigone. 

TiRESiAS,  a  prophet. 

A  Messenger,  Guard,  Servant,  and  Attendants. 

Chorus>  composed  of  ancient  men  of  Thebes. 


ARGUMENT. 


Eteocles  and  Polynices,  sons  of  CEdipus,  having  an  equal 
claim  to  the  kingdom  of  Thebes,  agreed  to  reign  year  by 
year  alternately  :  but  Eteocles,  succeeding  first  to  the  throne 
by  priority  of  birth,  broke  the  contract,  and  maintained 
himself  in  the  possession  of  his  dominions.  Polynices,  in 
revenge,  raised  an  army  of  Argians,  and  made  an  incursion 
into  Thebes  ;  where,  after  great  slaughter  on  both  sides, 
the  brothers  were  slain  by  each  other  in  single  combat. 
The  kingdom  now  devolved  to  their  uncle  Creon,  whose 
first  act  of  supreme  power  was  an  edict,  forbidding  all  rites 
of  sepulture  to  Polynices,  as  a  traitor ;  and  pronouncing 
instant  death  on  any  who  should  dare  to  bury  him.  This 
iaimDaan  decree,jind  the^  that  awaited  its  infraction, 

failed,  however,  to  deter  his  8ister_Antigone_  from  bestow- 
ing the  la,st  duties  to  lier  unfortunate  brother  ;  and,  being 
detected  in   the   prosecutron   of  Ter  deslgir  sen- 

tenced" byTBe~  tyrant  to  imprisonment  in  a  cavef  where  she 
was  to  perish  with  hunger.  Hsemon,  the  son  of  Creon,  and 
the  bethrothed  husband  of  Afftlgdne,  endeavored,  by  his  in- 
fluence with  his  father,  to  arrest  this  cruel  mandate  ;  and, 
failing  of  success,  slew  himself.  The  punishment  of  Creon, 
did  not  stop  here  ;  for  his  wife  Eurydice,  in  despair  for  the 
death  of  her  son,  put  a  period  to  her  existence  ;  leaving  the 
unhappy  monarch  to  atone,  by  a  fruitless  remorse,  for  his  past 
rigor  and  injustice. 


ACT  I. 


ANTIGONE,    ISMENE. 

41        Ant.  O  my  dear  sister,  my  best-loved  Ismene ! 
Is  there  an  evil,  by  the  wrath  of  Jove 
Reserved  for  (Edipus'  unhappy  race, 


10 


15 


158  SOPHOCLES. 

We  have  not  fell  already?    Sorrow  and  shame, 
And  bitterness  and  anguish,—  all  that's  sad, 
All  that 's  distressful,  hath  been  ours  ;  and  now 
This  dreadful  edict  from  the  tyrant  comes 
To  double  our  misfortunes.     Hast  thou  heard 
What  harsh  commands  he  hath  imposed  on  all ; 
Or  art  thou  still  to  know  what  future  ills 
Our  foes  have  yet  in  store  to  make  us  wretched  ? 

IsM.  Since  that  unhappy  day,  Antigone  ! 
When  by  each  other's  hand  our  brothers  fell, 
And  Greece  dismiss'd  her  armies,  I  have  heard 
Naught  that  could  give  or  joy  or  grief  to  me. 

Ant.  I  thought  thou  wert  a  stranger  to  the  tidings  ; 

And  therefore  call'd  thee  forth,  that  here  alone 

I  might  impart  them  to  thee. 
Is^,^  O  !  what  are  they  ? 

For  something  dreadful  labors  in  thy  breast. 

Ant.  Know  then,  from  Creon,  our  indulgent  lord. 
Our  hapless  brothers  met  a  diflferent  fate  ;  21 

To  honor  one,  and  one  to  infamy, 
He  hath  consigned :  with  funeral  rites  he  graced 
The  body  of  our  dear  Eteocles, 
Whilst  Polynices'  wretched  carcass  lies 
Unburied,  unlamented,  left  exposed 
A  feast  for  hungry  vultures  on  the  plain. 
No  pitying  friend  will  dare  to  violate 
The  tyrant's  harsh  command,  for  public  death 
Awaits  the  offender ;  Creon  comes  himself 
To  tell  us  of  it,  such  is  our  condition. 
This  is  the  Crisis,  this  the  hour,  Ismene  ! 
That  must  declare  thee  worthy  of  thy  birth, 
Or  show  thee  mean,  base,  and  degenerate. 
Ism.  What  wouldst  thou  have  mc  do?     Defy 
power  ? 

Contemn  the  laws  ? 
Ap^t.  To  act  with  me,  or  not : 


AJJTtGONfe.—ACT  1. 


159 


25 


30 


his 
35 


Consider,  and  resolve. 

Ism.  What  daring  deed 

Wouldst  thou  attempt  ?    What  is  it  ?    Speak  ! 

Ant.  To  join 

And  take  the  body,  my  Ismene  ! 

IsM.  Ha ! 

And  wouldst  thou  dare  to  bury  it,  when  thus 
We  are  forbidden  ? 

Ant.  Ay,  to  bury  him  : 

He  is  my  brother,  and  thine  too,  Ismene  ! 
Therefore,  consent  or  not,  I  have  determined 
I  'II  not  disgrace  my  birth. 

Ism.  Hath  not  the  king 

Pronounced  it  death  to  all  ? 

Ant.  He  hath  no  right,         45 

No  power  to  keep  me  from  my  own. 

Ism.  Alas ! 

Remember  our  unhappy  father's  fate ; 
His  eyes  torn  out  by  his  own  fatal  hand. 
Oppressed  with  shame  and  infamy,  he  died  : 
Fruit  of  his  crimes,  a  mother  and  a  wife,  50 

Dreadful  alliance  !  self-devoted,  fell ; 
And  last,  in  one  sad  day,  Eteocles 
And  Polynices,  by  each  other  slain. 
Left  as  we  are,  deserted  and  forlorn. 
What  from  our  disobedience  can  we  hope,  55 

But  misery  and  ruin  ?    Poor,  weak  women,  \ 

Helpless,  nor  form*d  by  nature  to  contend  \ 

With  powerful  man  ;  we  are  his  subjects  too.        \ 
Therefore  to  this,  and  worse  than  this,  my  sister, 
We  must  submit ;  for  me,  in  humblest  prayer  60 

Will  I  address  me  to  the  infernal  Powers 
For  pardon  of  that  crime,  which,  well  they  know, 
Sprang  from  necessity,  and  then  obey ; 
Since  to  attempt  what  we  can  never  hope 
To  execute,  is  folly  all,  and  madness.  65 


f- 


160 


SOPHOCLES, 


70 


75 


80 


Ant.  Wert  thou  to  proffer  what  I  do  not  ask,— 
Thy  poor  assistance,  I  would  scorn  it  now. 
Act  as  thou  wilt ;  I  'II  bury  him  myself: 
Let  me  perform  but  that,  and  death  is  welcome. 
I  '11  do  the  pious  deed,  and  lay  me  down 
Bv  my  dear  brother;  loving  and  beloved, 
We  'U  rest  together :  to  the  Powers  below, 
'Tis  fit  we  pay  obedience  ;  longer  there 
We  must  remain,  than  we  can  breathe  on  earth  ; 
There  I  shall  dwell  for  ever;  thou,  meantime. 
What  the  gods  hold  most  precious  mayst  despise. 

IsM.  I  reverence  the  gods  ;  but,  in  defiance 

Of  laws,  and  unassisted,  to  do  this, 

It  were  most  dangerous. 
^^j  That  be  thy  excuse. 

Whilst  I  prepare  the  funeral  pile. 
IsM.  Alas! 

I  tremble  for  thee. 

j^j^T,  Tremble  for  thyself, 

And  not  for  me. 

Ism  O  !  do  not  tell  thy  purpose, 

I  bes  thee,  do  not ;  I  shall  ne'er  betray  thee. 

Ant.  I  'd  have  it  known  ;  and  I  shall  hate  thee  more 
For  thy  concealment,  than  if  loud  to  all  85 

Thou  wouldst  proclaim  the  deed. 

jg^  Thou  hast  a  heart 

Too  daring,  and  ill-suited  to  thy  fate. 

Ant.  I  know  my  duty,  and  I  '11  pay  it  there 
Where  'twill  be  best  accepted. 

jgj^  Couldst  thou  do  it ; 

Bat 'tis  not  in  thy  power. 

^j,^^  When  I  know  that,  90 

It  will  be  time  enough  to  quit  my  purpose. 
IsM.  It  cannot  be  ;  His  folly  to  attempt  it. 
Ant.  Go  on,  and  I  shall  hate  thee:  our  dead  bro- 
ther, 


ANTIGONE. — ACT  I. 


161 


He  too  shall  hate  thee  as  his  bitterest  foe. 

Go,  leave  me  here  to  suffer  for  my  rashness  ;  95 

Whatever  befals,  it  cannot  be  so  dreadful 

As  not  to  die  with  honor. 

Ism.  Then  farewell, 

Since  thou  wilt  have  it  so  ;  and  know,  Ismene 
Piiies  thy  weakness,  but  admires  tby  virtue.  [Exeunt. 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE  1. 

By  Dirce's  sweetly-flowing  stream,  JOO 

Ne'er  did  the  golden  eye  of  day 
On  Thebes  with  fairer  lustre  beam. 

Or  shine  with  more  auspicious  ray. 
See,  the  proud  Argive,  with  his  silver  shield 

And  glittering  armor,  quits  the  hostile  plain  ;       105 
No  longer  dares  maintain  the  luckless  field, 

But  vanquish'd  flies,  nor  checks  the  loosen'd  rein. 
With  dreadful  clangor,  like  the  bird  of  Jove, 
On  snowy  wings  descending  from  above, 
His  vaunted  powers  to  this  devoted  land,  110 

In  bitterest  wrath,  did  Polynices  lead  : 
With  crested  helmets,  and  a  numerous  band 

He  came,  and  fondly  hoped  that  Thebes  should  bleed. 

ANTISTROPHE  I. 

High  on  the  lofty  tower  he  stood. 

And  viewM  the  encircled  gates  below,  115 

With  spears  that  thirsted  for  our  blood. 

And  seem'd  to  scorn  the  unequal  foe  : 
But  fraught  with  vengeance,  ere  the  rising  flame 

Could  waste  our  bulwarks,  or  our  walls  surround. 
Mars  to  assist  the  fiery  serpent  came,  120 

And  brought  the  towering  eagle  to  the  ground. 

120  By  the  dragon,  or  fiery  serpent,  we  are  to  understand 
the  Theban  army  attacked  by  the  eagle  Polynices. 

SOPH,  ^  L 


162 


SOPHOCLES. 


125 


130 


That  god,  who  hates  the  boastings  of  the  proud, 
Saw  the  rude  violence  of  the  exulting  crowd. 
A'ready  now  the  triumph  was  prepared, 

The  wreath  of  victory,  and  the  festal  song, 
When  Jove  the  clash  of  golden  armor  heard. 

And  hurl'd  his  thunder  on  the  guilty  throng. 

STROPHE   II. 

Then  Capaneus,  elate  with  pride. 

Fierce  as  the  rapid  whirlwind  came  ; 
Eager  he  seem'd  on  every  side 

To  spread  the  all-devouring  flame  : 
But  soon  he  felt  the  winged  lightning's  blast. 

By  angry  Heaven  with  speedy  vengeance  sent : 
Down  from  the  lofty  turrets  headlong  cast. 

For  his  foul  crimes  he  met  the  punishment.  i«5J> 

Each  at  his  gate,  long  time  the  leaders  strove. 
Then  fled,  and  left  their  arms  to  conquering  Jove  ; 
Save  the  unhappy  death  devoted  pair. 

The  wretched  brethren,  who  unconquer  d  stood  : 
With  rancorous  hate  inspired,  and  fell  despair,       14U 
They  wreak'd  their  vengeance  in  each  other  s  blooa. 

ANTISTROFHE   II. 

And,  lo  !  with  smiles  propitious  see, 

To  Thebes,  for  numerous  scars  renown  d  . 
The  goddess  comes,  fair  Victory, 

With  fame  and  endless  glory  crownM ! 
Henceforth,  no  longer  vex'd  by  war's  alarms, 

Let  all  our  sorrows,  all  our  labors  cease  : 
Come,  let  us  quit  the  din  of  rattling  arms. 

And  fill  our  temples  with  the  songs  of  peace. 
The  god  of  Thebes  shall  guide  our  steps  aright, 
And  crown  with  many  a  lay  the  festive  night. 

128  Capaneus  was  one  of  the  seven  captains  who  carne 
aeainst  Thebes.  It  is  said  that,  after  he  had  mounted  to  the 
tTof  the  scaUng-ladders,  he  was  struck  dead  with  hghtmng. 


145 


150 


ANTIGONE. — ACT   II.  163 

But  see,  still  anxious  for  his  native  land. 
Our  king,  Menoeceus'  valiant  son,  appear: 

With  some  fair  omen,  by  the  gods'  command,         154 
He  comes  to  meet  his  aged  council  here.     [Exeuju. 


ACT   II. 


CREON,    CHORUS. 

Cre.  At  length,  our  empire,  shook  by  civil  broils, 

The  gods  to  peace  and  safety  have  restored  ; 

Wherefore,  my  friends  !  you  had  our  late  request 

That  you  should  meet  us  here  ;  for  well  I  know 

Your  firm  allegiance  to  great  Laius,  next  160 

To  CEdipus,  and  his  unhappy  sons  ; 

These  by  each  other's  hand  untimely  slain, 

To  me  the  sceptre  doth  of  right  descend. 

As  next  in  blood.     Never  can  man  be  known, 

His  mind,  his  will,  his  passions,  ne'er  appear*         165 

Till  power  and  oifice  call  them  forth  ;  for  me, 

'Tis  my  firm  thought,  and  I  have  held  it  ever,    ^ 

That  he  who  rules,  and  doth  not  follow  that 

Which  wisdom  counsels,  but,  restrain'd  by  fear, 

Shuts  up  his  lips,  must  be  the  worst  of  men  ;      '     170 

Nor  do  I  deem  him  worthy,  who  prefers 

A  friend,  bow  dear  soever,  to  his  country. 

Should  I  behold  (witness,  all-seeing  Jove!)  ^ 

This  city  wrong'd,  I  never  would  be  silent ;  -^ 

Never  would  make  the  foe  of  Thebes  my  friend,     175 

For  on  her  safety  must  depend  our  own  ; 

And  if  she  flourish,  we  can  never  want 

Assistance  or  support :  thus  would  I  act ; 

And  therefore  have  I  sent  my  edict  forth' 

Touching  the  sons  of  CEdipus,  commanding  180 

That  they  should  bury  him  who  nobly  fought 


164 


SOPHOCLES, 


186 


190 


And  died  for  Thebes,  the  good  Eteocles, 
Gracing  his  memory  with  each  honor  due 
To  the  illustrious  deed  ;  for  Polynices, 
Abandoned  exile  !  for  a  brother's  blood 
Thirsting  insatiate  ;— he,  who  would  in  flames 
Have  wasted  all,  his  country,  and  his  gods, 
And  made  you  slaves;— I  have  decreed,  he  lie 
Unburied,  his  vile  carcass  to  the  birds 
And  hungry  dogs  a  prey  ;  there  let  him  rot 
Inglorious  ;  'tis  my  will :  for  ne'er  from  me 
Shall  vice  inherit  Virtue's  due  reward, 
But  him  alone,  who  is  a  friend  to  Thebes, 
Living  or  dead,  shall  Creon  reverence  still. 

Cho.  Son  of  Menoeceus  !  'twasthy  great  behest  196 
Thus  to  reward  them  both  :  thine  is  the  power 
O'er  all  supreme,  the  living  and  the  dead. 

Cre.  Be  careful,  then,  my  orders  are  obey'd. 

Cho.  O  sir  !  to  younger  hands  commit  the  task. 

Cre.  I  have  appointed  some  to  watch  the  body.  200 

Cho.  What  then  remains  for  us  ? 

Qj^^^  To  see  that  none, 

By  your  connivance,  violate  the  law. 

Cho.  Scarce  will  the  man  be  found  so  fond  of  death 
As  to  attempt  it. 

Cre.  Death  is  the  reward 

Of  him  who  dares  it ;  but  ofttimes,  by  hope  205 

Of  sordid  gain,  are  men  betray'd  to  ruin. 

Enter  Messenger. 
Mes.  O  king !  I  cannot  boast  that,  hither  sent, 
I  came  with  speed,  for  oft  my  troubled  thoughts 
Have  driven  me  back  :  oft  to  myself  I  said, 
*  Why  dost  thou  seek  destruction  ?     Yet  again,       210 
If  thou  report  it  not,  from  other  tongues 
Creon  must  hear  the  tale,  and  thou  wilt  sufl'er.' 


ANTIGONE.— ACT  II. 


165 


/ 


I 


With  doubts  like  these  oppress'd,  slowly  I  came, 
And  the  short  way  seem'd  like  a  tedious  journey. 
At  length  I  come,  resolved  to  tell  thee  all .-  215 

Whate'er  the  event,  I  must  submit  to  fate. 

Cre.  Whence  are  thy  fears,  and  why  this  hesitation  ? 

Mes.  First  for  myself;  I  merit  not  thy  wrath  : 
It  was  not  I,  nor  have  I  seen  the  man 
Who  did  the  guilty  deed. 

Cre.  Something  of  weight    220 

Thou  hast  to  impart,  by  this  unusual  care 
To  guard  thee  from  our  anger. 

Mes.  Fear  will  come 

Where  danger  is. 

Cre.  Speak,  and  thou  hast  thy  pardon. 

Mes.  The  body  of  Polynices  some  rash  hand 
Hath  buried,  scatter'd  o'er  his  corpse  the  dust,        225 
And  funeral  rites  performed. 

Cre.  Who  dared  do  this  ? 

Mes.  'Tis  yet  unknown  :  no  mark  of  instrument 
Is  left  behind  ;  the  earth  still  level  all, 
Nor  worn  by  track  of  chariot  wheel.     The  guard,' 
Who  watch'd  that  day,  call  it  a  miracle ;  2a0 

No  tomb  was  raised  ;  light  lay  the  scatter'd  earth, 
As  only  meant  to  avoid  the  imputed  curse ; 
Nor  could  we  trace  the  steps  of  dog  or  beast 
Passing  that  way.     Instant  a  tumult  rose ; 
The  guards  accused  each  other ;  naught  was  proved. 
But  each  suspected  each,  and  all  denied,  236 

Offering,  in  proof  of  innocence,  to  grasp 
The  burning  steel,  to  walk  through  fire,  and  take 
Their  solemn  oath  they  knew  not  of  the  deed.       ^ 
At  length,  one  mightier  than  the  rest  proposed       240 
(Nor  could  we  think  of  better  means)  that  all 
Should  be  to  thee  discover'd  :  'twas  my  lot 
To  bring  the  unwelcome  tidings  ;  and  I  come 
To  pour  my  news,  unwilling,  into  ears 


166 


SOPHOCLES. 


244 


Unwilling  to  receive  it ;  for  I  know 
None  ever  loved  the  messenger  of  ill. 
r      Cho.  To  me  it  seems  as  if  the  hand  of  Heaven 
^  Were  in  this  deed. 

Cue.  Be  silent,  ere  my  rage, 

Thou  rash  old  man  !  pronounce  thee  fool  and  dotard. 
i  Horrid  suggestion  !  think'st  thou  then  the  gods      250 
I  Take  care  of  men  like  these  ?     Would  they  preserve 
Or  honor  him,  who  came  to  burn  their  altars, 
Profane  their  rites,  and  trample  on  their  laws? 
)  Will  they  reward  the  bad  ?     It  cannot  be  : 
But  well  I  know,  the  murmuring  citizens  255 

Brook'd  not  our  mandate,  shook  their  heads  in  secret, 
And,  ill-affected  to  me,  would  not  stoop 
Their  haughty  crests,  or  bend  beneath  my  yoke  : 

By  hire  corrupted,  some  of  these  have  dared        

The  venturous  deed.     Gold  is  the  worst  of  ills        260 

That  ever  plagued  mankind  ;  this  wastes  our  cities, 

Drives  forth  their  natives  to  a  foreign  soil. 

Taints  the  pure  heart,  and  turns  the  virtuous  mind 

To  basest  deeds  ;  artificer  of  fraud 

Supreme,  and  source  of  every  wickedness. 

The  wretch,  corrupted  for  this  hateful  purpose, 

Must  one  day  suffer ;  for,  observe  me  well ; 

As  I  revere  that  Power  by  whom  I  swear, 

Almighty  Jove  ;  if  you  conceal  him  from  me. 

If  to  my  eyes  you  do  not  bring  the  traitor. 

Know,  death  alone  shall  not  suffice  to  glut 

My  vengeance  :  living  shall  you  hang  in  torments, 

Till  you  confess,  till  you  have  learn'd  from  me 

There  is  a  prophet  not  to  be  desired  ; 

And  own,  dishonest  gains  have  ruin'd  mop;'  275 

Than  they  have  saved. 

Mes.  O  king  •  ™^y  ^  tJeP^"^^* 

Or  wait  thy  farther  orders  ? 
Cj^j.^  Know'st  thou  not 


265 


270 


ANTIGONE. — ACT   11. 


167 


Thy  speech  is  hateful  ?     Hence  ! 

Mes.  Wherefore,  my  lord? 

Cre.  Know  you  not  why  ? 

Mes.  I  but  offend  your  ear ; 

They  who  have  done  the  deed  afflict  your  soul.      280 

Cre.  Away  ;  thy  talk  but  makes  thy  guilt  appear. 

Mes.  My  lord,  I  did  not  do  it. 

Cre.  Thou  hast  sold 

Thy  life  for  gain, 

Mes.  'Tis  cruel  to  suspect  me. 

Cre.  Thou  talk*st  it  bravely  ;  but  remember  all, 
Unless  you  do  produce  him,  you  shall  find  285 

The  miseries  which  on  ill  got  wealth  await.         [Exit, 

Mes.  Would  he  were  found  !  that  we  must  leave  to 
fate. 
Be  it  as  it  may,  I  never  will  return. 
Thus  safe  beyond  my  hopes,  'tis  fit  I  pay 
My  thanks  to  the  kind  gods  who  have  preserved  me. 

[Ej:it. 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE   I, 

Since  first  this  active  world  began,  291 

Nature  is  busy  all  in  every  part ; 
But,  passing  ail  in  wisdom  and  in  art, 
Superior  shines  inventive  man  : 
Fearless  of  wintry  winds,  and  circling  waves,  295 

He  rides  the  ocean,  and  the  tempest  braves  : 
On  him,  unwearied  Earth,  with  lavish  hand, 
Immortal  goddess  !  all  her  bounty  pours  ; 
Patient  beneath  the  rigid  plough's  command,     299 
Year  after  year  she  yields  her  plenteous  stores. 
antistrophe  I. 
To  drive  the  natives  of  the  wood 
From  their  rude  haunts,  or  in  the  cruel  snare 
To  catch  the  wing'd  inhabitants  of  air, 
Or  trap  the  scaly  brood  ; 


168 


SOPHOCLES. 


To  tame  the  fiery  courser,  yet  unbroke  30o 

With  the  hard  rein,  or  to  the  untried  yoke 
To  bend  the  mountain  bull,  who,  wildly  free, 

O'er  the  steep  rocks  had  wander'd  unconfined; — 
These  are  the  arts  of  mortal  industry, 
And  such  the  subtle  power  of  human  kind.      310 

STROPHE   H. 

By  learning  and  fair  science  crown'd. 
Behold  him  now  full  fraught  with  wisdom's  lore, 
The  laws  of  nature  anxious  to  explore, 
With  depth  of  thought  profound  : 
But  naught,  alas  !  can  human  wisdom  see  315 

In  the  dark  bosom  of  futurity  : 
The  power  of  Wisdom  may  awhile  prevail. 

Awhile  suspend  a  mortal's  fleeting  breath ; 
But  never  can  her  fruitless  arts  avail, 

To  conquer  fate,  or  stop  the  hand  of  death.      320 

ANTISTROPHE   H. 

Man's  ever  active,  changeful  will. 
Sometimes  to  good  shall  bend  his  virtuous  mind ; 
Sometimes  behold  him  to  foul  deeds  inclined, 
And  prone  to  every  ill. 
Who  guiltless  keeps  the  laws,  is  still  approved       325 
By  every  tongue,  and  by  his  country  loved ; 
But  he  who  doth  not,  from  his  native  land 

A  wretched  exile,  far,  O  !  far  from  me. 
May  he  be  driven,  by  angry  Heaven's  command. 

And  live  devote  to  shame  and  infamy  !  330 

Cho.  Amazement !  can  it  be  Antigone, 
Or  do  my  eyes  deceive  me  ?    No,  she  comes. 
O  wretched  daughter  of  a  wretched  father  ! 
Hast  thou  transgress'd  the  laws,  and  art  thou  taken 
In  this  adventurous  deed,  unhappy  maid  ?  335 

Enter  Antigone  and  Guard. 
Guard.  Behold  the  woman  who  hath  done  the  deed  ; 


345 


ANTIGONE. — ACT   II.  169 

In  the  very  act  of  burial  we  surprised  her. 
Where  is  the  king  ? 

Cho.  Returned  as  we  could  wish  ; 

Ev'n  now  he  comes  this  way. 

Enter  Creon. 

^^E.  Whom  have  we  here? 

Doth  Justice  smile  upon  us  ? 

Guard,  o  my  lord !  340 

Never  should  man  too  confident  assert^-_ 
Much  less  by  oath  should  bind  himself  to  aught ; 
For  soon  our  judgments  change,  and  one  opinion 
Destroys  another.     By  thy  threats  alarm'd, 
But  now  I  vow'd  I  never  would  return  : 
Yet,  thus  preserved  beyond  my  hopes,  I  come, 
Bound  by  that  duty  which  I  owe  to  thee 
And  to  my  country,  to  bring  here  this  virgin. 
Whom,  as  she  sprinkled  o'er  her  brother's  dust 
The  varied  wreath,  we  seized  :  the  willing  task     350 
Was  mine,  nor  as  of  late  by  lot  determin'd. 
Receive  her,  then,  O  king !  judge  and  condemn 
The  guilty,  as  it  best  becomes  thy  wisdom ; 
Henceforth  I  stand  acquitted. 

Cre.  But  say,  how, 

Where  didst  thou  find  her  P 

Guard.  To  say  all,  'twas  she  355 

Who  buried  Polynices, 
Gre.  Art  thou  sure  P 

Guard.  These  eyes  beheld  her. 
Gre.  But  say,  how  discovered  ? 

Guard.  Thus  then  it  was  :  no  sooner  had  I  left  thee, 
Than,  mindful  of  thy  wrath,  with  careful  hands 
From  off  the  putrid  carcass  we  removed  360 

The  scattered  dust ;  then,  to  avoid  the  stench 
Exhaling  noisome,  to  a  hill  retired  ; 


170 


SOPHOCLES. 


ANTIGONE. — ACT   II. 


171 


375 


There  watch'd  at  distance,  till  the  mid-day  sun 
Scorch'd  o*er  our  heads  :  sudden  a  storm  arose. 
Shook  every  leaf,  and  rattled  through  the  grove,    365 
Filling  the  troubled  element.     We  closed 
Our  eyes,  and  patient  bore  the  wrath  of  Heaven  : 
At  length  the  tempest  ceased  ;  when  we  beheld 
This  virgin  issuing  forth,  and  heard  her  cries 
Distressful,  like  the  plaintive  bird,  who  views         370 
The  plunder'd  nest,  and  mourns  her  ravish'd  young  : 
Ev'n  thus  the  maid,  when  on  the  naked  corse 
S'le  cast  her  eyes,  loud  shriek'd,  and  cursed  the  hand 
That  did  the  impious  deed  ;  then  sprinkled  o'er 
The  crumbled  earth  ;  and  from  a  brazen  urn, 
Of  richest  work,  to  the  loved  relics  thrice 
Her  due  libations  pour'd  :  we  saw,  and  straight 
Pursued  her;  unappall'd  she  seem'd,  and  still, 
As  we  did  question  her,  confessed  it  all. 
It  pleased,  and  yet  methought  it  grieved  me  too. 
\  To  find  ourselves  released  from  wo,  is  bliss 
iSupreme  ;  but  thus  to  see  our  friends  unhappy, 
AEmbitters  all.     I  must  be  thankful  still 
For  my  own  safety,  which  I  hold  most  dear. 
Cre.  Speak  thou,  who  bend'st  to  earth  thy  drooping 
head :  385 

Dost  thou  deny  the  fact  ? 

AxT.  Deny  it?  no: 

'Twas  I. 

Cre.  [to  the  Guard.]  Retire,  for  thou  art  free  ;  and 
now,  [tnrninff  to  Antigone. 

Be  brief,  and  tell  me  :  heardst  thou  our  decree  ? 
Ant.  I  did;  'twas  public  :  how  could  I  avoid  it? 
Cre.  And  darest  thou,  then,  to  disobey  the  law  ?  390 
Ant.  I  had  it  not  from  Jove,  nor  the  just  gods 
Who  rule  below  ;  nor  could  I  ever  think 
A  mortal's  law  of  power  or  strength  sufficient 


380 


To  abrogate  the  unwritten  law  divine, 

Immutable,  eternal,  not  like  these  395 

Of  yesterday,  but  made  ere  time  began. 

Shall  man  persuade  me,  then,  to  violate 

Heaven's  great  commands,  and  make  the  gods  my  foes  ? 

Without  thy  mandate,  death  had  one  day  come  ; 

For  who  shall  'scape  it  ?  and  if  now  I  fall  400 

A  little  sooner,  'tis  the  thing  I  wish. 

To  those  who  live  in  misery,  like  me. 

Believe  me,  king  !  'tis  happiness  to  die. 

Without  remorse  I  shall  embrace  my  fate  ; 

But  to  my  brother  had  I  left  the  rites  405 

Of  sepulture  unpaid,  I  then  indeed 

Had  been  most  wretched.     This  to  thee  may  seem 

Madness  and  folly  ;  if  it  be,  'tis  fit 

I  should  act  thus  ;  it  hut  resembles  thee. 
Cre.  Sprung  from  a  sire  perverse  and  obstinate,  410 

Like  him,  she  cannot  bend  beneath  misfortune : 

But  know,  the  proudest  hearts  may  be  subdued. 

Hast  thou  not  mark'd  the  hardest  steel  by  fire 

Made  soft  and  flexible  ?     Myself  have  seen 

By  a  slight  rein  the  fiery  courser  held.  415 

*Tis  not  for  slaves  to  be  so  haughty  ;  yet 

This  proud  offender,  not  content,  it  seems. 

To  violate  my  laws,  adds  crime  to  crime  ; 

Smiles  at  my  threats,  and  glories  in  her  guilt. 

If  I  should  suffer  her  to  'scape  my  vengeance,        420 

She  were  the  man,  not  I :  but  though  she  sprang 

Ev'n  from  my  sister,  were  I  bound  to  her 

By  ties  more  dear  than  is  Hercaean  Jove, 

She  should  not  'scape  :  her  sister  too,  I  find 

423  Jupiter  Hercseus,  so  called  from  being  the  guardian  of 
every  man  s  private  habitation :  m  times  of  war  and  calamity 
altars  were  erected  to  him,  to  which  the  unhappy  fled  as  an 


172 


SOPHOCLES. 


Accomplice  in  the* deed.     Go,  call  her  forth  :  425 

[/o  one  of  the  attendants. 

She  is  within  ;  I  saw  her  raving  there, 
Her  senses  lost ;  the  common  fate  of  those 
Who  practise  dark  and  deadly  wickedness. 

[turning  to  Antigone. 

I  cannot  bear  to  see  the  guilty  stand 

Convicted  of  their  crimes,  and  yet  pretend  430 

To  gloss  them  o'er  with  specious  names  of  virtue. 

Ant.  I  am  thy  captive  ;  thou  wouldst  have  my  life  : 
Will  that  content  thee  ? 

Cre.  Yes,  Uis  all  I  wish. 

Ant.  Why  this  delay,  then,  when  thou  know*st  my 
words 
To  thee  as  hateful  are  as  thine  to  me  ?  435 

Therefore  despatch  :  I  cannot  live  to  do 
A  deed  more  glorious  ;  and  so  these  would  air 

\jpointing  to  the  Chorus* 

Confess,  were  not  their  tongues  restrained  by  fear. 

It  is  the  tyrant's  privilege,  we  know. 

To  speak  and  act  whate'er  he  please  uncensured.  440 

Cre.  Lives  there  another  in  the  land  of  Thebes, 
Who  thinks  as  thou  dost  ? 

Ant.  Yes,  a  thousand ;  these, 

These  think  so  too,  but  dare  not  utter  it. 

Cre.  Dost  thou  not  blush  P 

Ant.  For  what  P  Why  blush  to  pay 

A  sister's  duty  ? 

Cre.  But,  Eteocles,  445 

Say,  was  not  he  thy  brother  too  ? 

Ant.  He  was. 

Cre.  Why  then  thus  reverence  him  who  least  de- 
served it  P 

Ant.  Perhaps  that  brother  thinks  not  so. 

Cre.  He  must, 


r-.^ 


ANTIGONE.— ACT   II. 


173 


\ 


If  thou  pay'st  equal  honor  to  them  both. 
Ant.  He  was  a  brother,  not  a  slave, 

.  ^^^'  One  fought  450 

Against  that  country  which  the  other  saved. 

Ant.  But  equal  death  the  rites  of  sepulture 
Decrees  to  both. 

^'^E.  What !  reverence  alike 

The  guilty  and  the  innocent? 

^^'^^  Perhaps  \ 

The  gods  below  esteem  it  just, 

rr^^\.     .     .  ^^°^'  455 

Ihough  dead,  shoud  as  a  foe  be  treated  still. 

Ant.  My  love  shall  go  with  thine,  but  not  my  hate. 

Cre.  Go,  then,  and  love  them  inthe  tomb  ;  but  know. 
No  woman  rules  in  Thebes  whilst  Creon  lives. 

Cho.  Lo  !  at  the  portal  stands  the  fair  Ismene  ;  460 
Tears  in  her  lovely  eyes,  a  cloud  of  grief 
Sits  on  her  brow,  wetting  her  beauteous  cheek 
With  pious  sorrow  for  a  sister's  fate. 

Enter  Ismene.  * 

Cre.  Come  forth,  thou  serpent !  little  did  I  think 
That  I  had  nourish'd  two  such  deadly  foes,  465 

To  suck  my  blood,  and  cast  me  from  my  throne. 
What  say'st   thou?    Wert  thou    accomplice  in  the 
deed, 

Or  wilt  thou  swear  that  thou  art  innocent  ? 
IsM.  I  do  ackowledge  it,  if  she  permit  me, 
I  was  accomplice,  and  the  crime  was  mine.  470 

^^  Ant.  'Tis  false  ;  thou  didst  refuse,  nor  would  I  hold 
Communion  with  thee. 

'^**-  But  in  thy  misfortunes 

Let  me  partake,  my  sister!  let  me  be, 
A  fellow-suflferer  with  thee. 

Ant.  Witness  Death 

And  ye  infernal  gods !  to  which  belongs  '        475 


174 


SOPHOCLES. 


ANTIGONE. — ACT    II. 


175 


ip. 


The  great,  the  glorious  deed.     I  do  not  love 
These  friends  in  word  alone. 

Ism.  Antigone! 

Do  not  dispise  me  ;  I  but  ask  to  die 
With  thee,  and  pay  due  honors  to  the  dead. 

Ant.  Pretend  not  to  a  meiit  which  thou  hast  not. 
Live  thou  ;  it  is  enough  for  me  to  perish.  481 

IsM.  But  what  is  life  without  thee  ? 

AxT.  Ask  thy  friend 

And  pktron  there.  {^pointing  to  Creon. 

Ism.  Why  that  unkind  reproach, 

When  thou  shouldst  rather  comfort  me  ? 

ANT.  Alas! 

It  gives  me  pain,  when  I  am  forced  to  speak  Ibo 

So  bitterly  against  thee. 

Ism.  Is  there  aught 

That  1  can  do  to  save  thee  ? 
Ajjx,  Save  thyself; 

I  shall  not  envy  thee. 

Ism.  And  will  you  not 

Permit  me  then  to  share  your  fate  ? 

Ant.  Thy  choice 

Was  life  :  'tis  mine  to  die. 

Ism.  I  told  thee  oft  490 

It  would  be  so. 
Ant.  Thou  didst,  and  was 't  not  well 

Thus  to  fulfil  thy  prophecy  ? 

Ism.  The  crime 

Was  mutual,  mutual  be  the  punishment. 

AxT.  Fear  not :  thy  life  is  safe  ;  but  mine  long  since 

Devoted  to  the  dead. 

Cre.  Both  seem  deprived  495 

Of  reason  ;  one,  indeed,  was  ever  thus. 

IsM.  O  king  !  the  mind  doth  seldom  keep  her  seat, 
When  sunk  beneath  misfortunes. 

Cre.  Sunk  indeed 


Thou  wert  in  wretchedness  to  join  with  her. 

IsM.  But  what  is  life  without  Antigone  ?  500 

Cre.  Then  think  not  of  it;  for  she  is  no  more. 

Ism.  Would'st  thou  destroy  thy  son's  long  destined 
wife? 

Cre.  O  we  shall  find  a  fitter  bride. 

Ism.  Alas ' 

He  will  not  think  so. 

^  ^^^'  I  'II  not  wed  my  son 

To  a  base  women. 

Ant.  o  my  dearest  Haemon !  505 

And  IS  It  thus  thy  father  doth  disgrace  thee  ? 

Crk.  Such  an  alliance  were  as  hateful  to  me 
As  IS  thyself. 

Ism.  Wilt  thou  then  take  her  from  him  ? 

Cre.  Their  nuptials  shall  be  finished  by  death. 
IsM.  She  then  must  perish  P 

rpP  ^^*  ,  So  must  you  and  I.  510 

Therefore  no  more  delay  :  go,  take  them  hence  ; 
Confine  them  both  :  henceforth  they  shall  not  stir. 
When  death  is  near  at  hand,  the  bravest  fly. 

CHORUS. 

strophe  I. 

Thrice  happy  they,  whose  days  in  pleasure  flow  : 
Who  never  taste  the  bitter  cup  of  wo  :  515 

For  when  the  wrath  of  Heaven  descends 
On  some  devoted  house,  their  foul  disgrace, 

With  Grief  and  all  her  train,  attends 
And  shame  and  sorrow  o'erwhelm  the  wretched  race  • 
Ev  n  as  the  Thracian  sea,  when  vex'd  with  storms,  520 
Whilst  darkness  hangs  incumbent  o'er  the  deep, 

A  ^"^    u^  v.^*'!^  ^^''^  ^^^  ^^°"^^^^  scene  deforms 
And  the  black  sands  in  rapid  whirlwinds  sweep  • 
The  groaning  waves  beat  on  the  trembling  shore, 
jAnd  echoing  hills  rebellow  to  the  roar.  525 


176 


SOPHOCLES. 


v/ 


530 


535 


540 


ANTISTROPHE   I. 

O  Labdacus  !  thy  house  must  perish  all. 
Ev*n  now  I  see  the  stately  ruin  fall ; 
Shame  heapM  on  shame,  and  ill  on  ill, 

Disgrace  and  never  ending  woes  ;. 
Some  an-ry  god  pursues  thee  still, 

Nor  grants  or  safety  or  repose : 
One  fair  and  lovely  branch  unwither'd  stood, 

And  braved  the  inclement  skies  ; 
But  Pluto  comes,  inexorable  god  ! 
She  sinks,  she  raves,  she  dies. 

STROPHE    II. 

Shall  man  below  control  the  gods  above, 
Or  human  pride  restrain  the  power  of  Jove? 
Whose  eyes  by  all-subduing  sleep 

Are  never  closed,  as  feeble  mortals*  are  ; 
But  still  their  watchful  vigils  keep 

Through  the  large  circle  of  the  eternal  year. 
Great  lord  of  all,  whom  neither  time  nor  age. 

With  envious  stroke,  can  weaken  or  decay  ; 
He,  who  alone  the  future  can  presage. 

Who  knows  alike  to-morrow  as  to-day  ; 
Whilst  wretched  man  is  doom'd,  by  Heaven's 

cree,  . 

To  toil  and  pain,  to  sm  and  misery. 

ANTISTROPHE   II. 

Ofttimes  the  flatterer  Hope,  that  joy  inspires. 
Fill  the  proud  heart  of  man  with  fond  desires. 
He,  careless  traveller  I  wanders  still 
Through  life,  unmindful  of  deceit ; 
H  Nor  dreads  the  danger  till  he  feel 
f     The  burning  sands  beneath  his  feet. 
When  Heaven  impels  to  guilt  the  maddening  mind. 

Then  good  like  ill  appears  ; 
And  vice,  for  universal  hate  designed, 

The  face  of  virtue  wears.  [Exeunt. 


I 


\i 


545 

de- 


550 


ANTIGONE. — ACT  III. 


ACT  III. 


177 


CREON,    H/EMON,    CHORUS. 

Cho.  Behold,  O  king !  thy  youngest  hope  appear, 
The  noble  Haemon  ;  lost  in  grief  he  seems, 
Weeping  the  fate  of  poor  Antigone.  560 

Cre.  He  comes,  and  better  than  a  prophet,  soon 
Shall  we  divine  his  inmost  thoughts.     My  son, 
Comest  thou,  well  knowing  our  decree,  to  mourn 
Thy  promised  bride,  and  angry  to  dispute 
A  father's  will ;  or,  whatsoe'er  we  do,  565 

Still  to  hold  best,  and  pay  obedience  to  us  P 

H;EM.  My  father,  I  am  thine ;  do  thou  command, 
And  I  in  all  things  shall  obey  :  'tis  flt 
My  promised  nuptial  rites  give  place  to  thee. 

Cre.  It  will  become  thee  with  obedience  thus     570 
To  bear  thee  ever,  and  in  every  act 
To  yield  submissive  to  a  father's  will. 
'Tis  therefore,  O  my  son  !  that  men  do  pray 
For  children,  who  with  kind  officious  duty 
May  guard  their  helpless  age,  resist  their  foes,        575 
And,  like  their  parents,  love  their  parents'  friend  : 
But  he  who  gets  a  disobedient  child, 
What  doth  he  get  but  misery  and  wo  P 
His  enemies  will  laugh  the  wretch  to  scorn. 
Take  heed,  my  son  !  thou  yield  not  up  thy  reason,  580 
In  hopes  of  pleasure  from  a  worthless  woman  ; 
For  cold  is  the  embrace  of  impious  love, 
And  deep  the  wounds  of  false,  dissembled  friendship. 
Hate,  then,  thy  bitterest  foe,  despise  her  arts, 
And  leave  her  to  be  wedded  to  the  tomb.  585 

Of  all  the  city,  her  alone  I  found 
Rebellious  ;  but  I  have  her,  nor  shall  Thebes 
Say  I  'm  a  liar ;  I  pronounced  her  fate, 

SOPH.  M 


178 


SOPHOCLES. 


And  she  must  perish  :  let  her  call  on  Jove, 

Who  guards  the  rites  of  kindred,  and  the  ties         690 

Of  nature  ;  for  if  those  by  blood  united 

Transgress  the  laws,  I  hold  myself  more  near 

Ev'n  to  a  stranger  :  who  in  private  life 

Is  just  and  good,  will  to  his  country  too 

Be  faithful  ever  ;  but  the  man  who,  proud  595 

And  fierce  of  soui,  contemns  authority, 

Despiseth  justice,  and  o'er  those  who  rule 

Would  have  dominion,  such  shall  never  gain 

The  applauding  voice  of  Creon.     He  alone. 

Whom  the  consenting  citizens  approve,  600 

The  acknowleged  sovereign,  should  in  all  command  : 

Just  or  unjust  his  laws,  in  things  of  great 

Or  little  import; — whatsoe'er  he  bids 

A  subject  is  not  to  dispute  Iiis  will ; 

He  knows  alike  to  rule  and  to  obey  ;  605 

And  in  the  day  of  battle  will  maintain 

The  foremost  rank,  his  country's  best  defence. 

Rebellion  is  the  worst  of  human  ills  : 

This  ruins  kingdoms,  this  destroys  the  peace 

Of  noblest  families,  this  wages  war,  610 

And  puts  the  brave  to  flight;  whilst  fair  obedience 

Keeps  all  in  safety  :  to  preserve  it,  ever  ^ 

Should  be  a  king's  first  care.    We  will  not  yield 

To  a  weak  woman  :  if  we  must  submit, 

At  least  we  will  be  conquer'd  by  a  man,  615 

Nor  by  a  female  arm  thus  fall  inglorious. 

HiEM.  Wisdom,  my  father,  is  the  noblest  gift 
That  gods  bestow  on  man,  and  better  far 
Than  all  his  treasures  ;  what  thy  judgment  deems 
Most  fit,  I  cannot,  would  not  reprehend.  620 

Others,  perhaps,  might  call  it  wrong  ;  forme, 
My  duty  only  bids  me  to  inform  you 
If  aught  be  done  or  said  that  casts  reproach 


ANTIGONE. — ACT   III. 


179 


( 


640 


Or  blame  on  >ou.    Such  terror  would  thy  looks 

Strike  on  the  low  plebeian,  that  he  dare  not  625 

Say  aught  unpleasing  to  thee  :  be  it  mine 

To  tell  thee,  then,  what  I  of  laic  have  beard 

In  secret  whisper'd.     Your  afflicted  people 

United  mourn  the  unhappy  virgin's  fate 

Unmerited   most  wretched  of  her  sex,  630 

ll!Lf\""^'  f.  '""'■  '^"""S«i*h'd  virtue ; 
For  that  she  would  not  let  a  brother  lie 

Unburie<I,  to  the  dogs  and  birds  a  prey. 

Was  It  not  rather,'  say  the  murmuring  crowd 
'Worthy  of  golden  honors,  and  fair  praise  °'      e36 
Such  are  their  dark  and  secret  diseontents". 
Thy  wellare  and  thy  happiness  alone 
Are  all  my  wish  :  what  can  a  child  desire 
More  than  a  father's  honor,  or  a  father 
More  than  a  child's  ?    O  -  do  not  then  retain 
Thy  wi  I,  and  st.ll  believe  no  sense  but  thine 
Can  judge  aright:  the  man,  who  proudly  thinks 
None  but  himself  or  eloquent  or  wise 
By  time  betray'd.  is  branded  for  an  id'iot, 
(True  wisdom  will  be  ever  glad  to  learn 

Th  .  u"'  *f°  ^°"^  "^  l^""'^'"-     Observe  the  trees 
That  bend  to  wintry  torrents;  how  their  boughs 
Unhurt  remain  ;  whilst  those  that  brave  the  storm 
Uprooted  torn,  shall  wither  and  decay.  ' 

The  pilot,  whose  unslacken'd  sail  defies  aw 

Contending  winds,  with  shatter'd  bark  pursues 
His  dangerous  course.    Then  mitigate  thy  wrath 
My  father,  and  give  way  to  sweet  fepenta^nr/' 
If  to  my  youth  be  aught  of  judgment  given 
He  who  by  knowlege  and  true  wisdom's  rules        65.>5 
Guides  every  action,  is  the  first  of  men- 
But  since  to  few  that  happiness  is  given. 
The  next  is  he,  who,  not  too  proud  to  learn 


646 


180 


SOPHOCLES. 


ANTIGONE. — ACT   III. 


181 


Follows  the  coansels  of  the  wise  and  good: 

Cho.  O  king  !  if  right  the  youth  advise,  His  fit    660 
That  thou  shouldst  listen  to  him  ;  so  to  thee 
Should  he  attend,  as  best  may  profit  both. 

Cre.    And    have    we   lived    so   long   then,    to  be 
taught 
At  last  our  duty  by  a  boy  like  thee  ? 

HiEM.  Young  though  I  am,  I  still  may  judge  aright ; 
^   \  Wisdom  in  action  lies,  and  not  in  years.  666 

Cre.  Call  you  it  wisdom  then  to  honor  those 
Who  disobey  the  laws  ? 

H^M.  I  would  not  have  thee 

Protect  the  wicked. 

Cre.  Is  she  not  most  guilty  ? 

Rem.  Thebes  doth  not  think  her  so. 

Cre.  Shall  Thebes  prescribe  670 

To  Creon's  will  ? 

H/EM.  How  weakly  dost  thou  talk  ! 

Cre.  Am  I  king  here,  or  shall  another  reign  ? 
\.H/EM.  'Tis  not  a  city  where  but  one  man  rules. 

Cre.  The  city  is  the  king's. 

HiEM.  Go  by  thyself  then, 

And  rule  henceforth  o'er  a  deserted  land.  675 

Cre.  [to  the  Chorus,]  He  pleads  the  woman's  cause. 

H/EM.  If  thou  art  she, 

I  do  ;  for,  O  !  I  speak  but  for  thy  sake  ; 
My  care  is  all  for  thee. 

Cre.  Abandoned  wretch ! 

Dispute  a  father's  will  ? 

BLem.  I  see  thee  err, 

And  therefore  do  it. 

Cre.  Is  it  then  a  crime  680 

To  guard  my  throne  and  rights  from  violation  ? 

HiEM.   He  cannot  guard  them  who  contemns  the 
gods, 


And  violates  their  laws. 

Cre.  O  !  thou  art  worse, 

More  impious  ev'n  than  she  thou  hast  defended. 

H^M.  Naught  have  I  done  to  merit  this  reproof.  685 

Cre.  Hast  thou  not  pleaded  for  her? 

HiEM.  No  ;  for  thee, 

And  for  myself;  for  the  infernal  gods. 

Cre,  But  know,  she  shall  not  live  to  be  thy  wife. 

H.EM.  Then  she  must  die  ;  another  too  may  fall. 

Cre.  Ha!  dost  thou  threaten  me?  Audacious  traitor! 

H/EM.  What  are  my  threats  ?     Alas !  thou  heed'st 
them  not.  691 

Cre.  That  thou  shalt  see  ;  thy  insolent  instruction  , 
Shall  cost  thee  dear. 

H^M.  But,  for  thou  art  my  father. 

Now  would  I  say  thy  senses  were  impair'd. 

Cre.  Think  not  to  make    rae   thus  thy  scorn  and 
laughter,  695 

Thou  woman's  slave ! 

HyEM.  Still  wouldst  thou  speak  thyself, 

And  never  listen  to  the  voice  of  truth  ; 
Such  is  thy  will. 

Cre.  Now,  by  Olympus  here 

1  swear,  thy  vile  reproaches  shall  not  pass 
Unpunish'd  :  call  her  forth  :  before  her  bridegroom 

\_to  one  of  the  attendants. 
She  shall  be  brought,  and  perish  in  his  sight.  701 

H^itf.  These  eyes  shall  never  see  it :  let  the  slaves, 
Who  fear  thy  rage,  submit  to  it;  but  know, 
'Tis  the  last  time  thou  shalt  behold  thy  son. 

\_Exit  H<Bmon, 
Cho.  Sudden  in  anger  fled  the  youth.     O  king!  705 

A  mind  oppress'd  like  his  is  desperate. 
Cre.  Why,  let  him  go  ;  and  henceforth  better  learn 

Than  to  oppose  me  :  be  it  as  it  may, 


182 


SOPHOCLES. 


Death  is  their  portion,  and  he  shall  not  save  them. 

Cho.  Must  they  both  die  then  ? 

Cre.                                         No  ;  'tis  well  advised  : 
Ismene  lives  ;  but  for  Antigone^ 711 

Cho.  O  king  !  what  death  is  she  decreed  to  suffer? 

Cre.  Far  from  the  haunts  of  men  I  '11  have  her  led, 
And  in  a  rocky  cave,  beneath  the  earth, 
Buried  alive  ;  with  her  a  little  food,  716 

Enough  to  save  the  city  from  pollution  : 
There  let  her  pray  the  only  god  she  worships 
To  save  her  from  this  death  :  perhaps  he  will ; 
Or  if  he  doth  not,  let  her  learn  how  vain 
It  is  to  reverence  the  powers  below,         \_ExU  Creon, 


CHORUS. 
STROPHE    I. 

Mighty  power,  all  powers  above  ! 
Great  unconquerable  Love  I 
Thou,  who  liest  in  dimple  sleek. 
On  the  tender  virgin's  cheek  ; — 
Thee  the  rich  and  great  obey ; 
Every  creature  owns  thy  sway. 
O'er  the  wide  earth  and  o'er  the  main 
Extends  thy  universal  reign  ; 
All  thy  maddening  influence  know, 
Gods  above  and  men  below  : 
All  thy  powers  resistless  prove, 
Great  unconquerable  Love ! 

ANTISTROPHE    f. 

Thou  canst  lead  the  just  astray 
From  wisdom  and  from  virtue's  way  : 
The  ties  of  nature  cease  to  bind, 
When  thou  disturb'st  the  captive  mind. 
Behold,  enslaved  by  fond  desire, 
The  youth  contemns  his  aged  sire  ; 


721 


725 


730 


735 


ANTIGONE. — ACT   III. 


183 


740 


750 


Enamor'd  of  his  beauteous  maid. 

Nor  laws  nor  parents  are  obey'd  : 

Thus  Venus  wills  it  from  above, 

And  great,  unconquerable  Love. 
Cho.  Ev'n  I,  beyond  the  common  bounds  of  grief, 
Indulge  my  sorrows  ;  and  from  these  sad  eyes 
Fountains  of  tears  will  flow,  when  I  behold  715 

Antij;one,  unhappy  maid,  approach 
The  bed  of  death,  and  hasten  to  the  tomb. 

Enter  Antigone. 

Ant.  Farewell,  my  friends !  my  countrymen,   fare- 
well ! 
Here  on  her  last  sad  journey  you  behold 
The  poor  Antigone ;  for  never  more 
Shall  I  return,  or  view  the  light  of  day. 
The  hand  of  death  conducts  me  to  the  shore 
Of  dreary  Acheron  ;  no  nuptial  song 
Reserved  for  me,  the  wretched  bride  alone 
Of  Pluto  now,  and  wedded  to  the  tomb. 

Cho.  Be  it  thy  glory  still,  that  by  the  sword 
Thou  fall'st  not,  nor  the  slow-consuming  hand 
Of  foul  distemperature  ;  but,  far  dislinguish'd 
Above  thy  sex,  andjo  thysfilfaiaw, 
Doom'st  thy  own  death  :  so  shall  thy  honor  live. 
And  future  ages  venerate  thy  name. 

Ant.  Thus  Tantalus'  unhappy  daughter  fell, 
The  Phrygian  Niobe  :  high  on  the  top 
Of  towering  Sipylus,  the  rock  enfolds  her, 
Ev'n  as  the  ivy  twines  her  tendrils  round 
The  lofty  oak :  there  still  (as  Fame  reports) 
To  melting  showers  and  everlasting  snow 
Obvious  she  stands,  her  beauteous  bosom  wet 
With  tears,  that  from  her  ever-streaming  eyes 
Incessant  flow:  her  fate  resembles  mine. 


755 


760 


765 


770 


m^. 


^irt? 


184 


SOPHOCLES. 


ANTIGONE. — ACT   III. 


185 


Cho.  a  goddess  she,  and  from  a  goddess  sprung  : 
We  are  but  mortal,  and  of  mortals  born. 
To  meet  the  fate  of  gods  thus  in  thy  life, 
And  in  thy  death,  O  !  'tis  a  glorious  doom. 

Ant.  Alas  !  thou  mock'st  me.  Why,  whilst  yet  I  live, 
Wouldst  thou  afflict  me  with  reproach  like  this  ?    776 

0  my  dear  country,  and  my  dearer  friends, 
Its  bless'd  inhabitants,  renowned  Thebes  ! 
And  ye,  Dircaean  fountains !  you  I  call 

To  witness,  that  I  die  by  laws  unjust;  780 

To  my  deep  prison  unlamented  go. 

To  my  sad  tomb,  no  fellow-sufferer  there 

To  soothe  my  woes,  the  living  or  the  dead. 

Cho.  Rashness  like  thine  must  meet  with  such  re- 
ward : 
A  father's  crimes,  I  fear,  lie  heavy  on  thee.  785 

Ant.  O,  thou  hast  touch'd  my  worst  of  miseries  ! 
My  father's  fate,  the  woes  of  all  our  bouse. 
The  wretched  race  of  Labdacus,  renown'd 
For  its  misfortunes  !     O,  the  guilty  bed 
Of  those  from  whom  I  sprang!  unhappy  offspring  790 
Of  parents  most  unhappy !     Lo  !  to  them 

1  go  accursed  ;  a  virgin  and  a  slave. 
O  my  poor  brother  !  most  unfortunate 

Were  thy  sad  nuptials  ;  ihey  have  slain  thy  sister. 

Cho.  Thy  piety  demands  our  praise;  but  know, 
Authority  is  not  to  be  despised  ;  796 

'Twas  thy  own  rashness  brought  destruction  on  thee. 

Ant.  Thus  friendless,  unlamented  must  I  tread 
The  destined  path,  no  longer  to  behold 
Your  sacred  light,  and  none  shall  mourn  my  fate.  800 

794  Polynices  married  the  daughter  of  Adrastus,  who,  in 
defence  of  his  son-in-law,  led  his  Argians  against  Thebes): 
thus  his  marriage  was  the  cause  of  his  death,  and  the  decree 
against  Antigone  consequent  on  it. 


Enter  Creon. 

Cre.  Know  ye  not,  slaves  like  her  to  death  devoted 
Would  never  cease  their  wailings  ?  Wherefore  is  it 
You  thus  delay  to  execute  my  orders? 
Let  her  be  carried  instant  to  the  cave, 
And  leave  her  there  alone,  to  live,  or  die.  805 

Her  blood  rests  not  on  us ;  but  she  no  longer 
Shall  breathe  on  earth.  [Exit  Creon, 

Ant.  O  dreadful  marriage  bed  ! 

O  my  deep  dungeon  !  my  eternal  home. 
Whither  I  go  to  enjoy  my  kindred  dead  ! 
For  not  a  few  hath  fell  Persephone  810 

Already  taken  ;  to  her  I  go,  the  last 
And  most  unhappy,  ere  my  time  was  come  ; 
But  still  I  have  sweet  hope  I  shall  not  go 
Unwelcome  to  my  father  ;  nor  to  thee, 
My  mother.    Dear  to  thee,  Eteocles,  815 

Still  shall  I  ever  be  :  these  pious  hands 
Wash'd  your  pale  bodies,  and  adorn'd  you  both 
With  rites  sepulcral,  and  libations  due. 
And  thus,  my  Polynices  !    for  my  care 
Oftheearal  rewarded;  and  the  good  820 

Alone  shall  praise  me.    For  a  husband  dead, 
Nor,  had  1  been  a  mother,  for  my  children, 
Would  I  have  dared  to  violate  the  laws  : 
Another  husband  and  another  child 
Might  soothe  affliction  ;  but,  my  parents  dead,        825 
A  brother's  loss  could  never  be  repaired ; 
And  therefore  did  I  dare  the  venturous  deed. 
And  therefore  die  by  Creon's  dread  command. 
Ne'er  shall  I  taste  of  Hymen's  joys,  or  know 
A  mother's  pleasures  in  her  infant  race ;  830 

But,  friendless  and  forlorn,  alive  descend 
Into  the  dreary  mansions  of  the  dead. 


186 


SOrPOCLES. 


And  how  have  I  offended  the  just  gods? 

But  wherefore  call  on  them  ?  Will  they  protect  me. 

When  thus  I  meet  with  the  reward  of  ill  O"*-^ 

For  doing  good  ?  If  this  be  just,  ye  gods  ? 

If  I  am  guilty,  let  me  suffer  for  it: 

But  if  the  crime  be  theirs,  O !  let  them  feel 

That  weight  of  misery  they  have  laid  on  me  ! 

Cho.  The  storm  continues,  and  her  angry  soul     84U 
Still  pours  its  sorrows  forth. 

Enter  Creon. 

The  slaves  shall  suffer 


Alas  !  death  cannot  be 


Cre. 
For  this  delay. 

Ant. 
Far  from  that  voice. 

Cj^e^  I  would  not  have  thee  hope 

A  moment's  respite. 

Ant.  O  my  country's  gods  ! 

And  thou,  my  native  Thebes  !  I  leave  you  now.      845 
Look  on  me,  princes;  see  the  last  of  all 
My  royal  race  ;  see  what  I  suffer  ;  see 
From  whom  I  bear  it ;— from  the  worst  of  men, 
Only  because  I  did  delight  in  virtue.        [Exit  Creon. 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE    I. 

Remember  what  fair  Danae  endured,  850 

Condemned  to  change  heaven's  cheerful  light 

For  scenes  of  horror  and  of  night. 
Within  a  brazen  tower  long  time  immured  : 

850  Acrisius,  king  of  the  Argives.  having  been  warned  by 
an  oracle,  that  he  should  be  slaia  by  his  grandson,  shut  up  his 
daughter  Danae  in  a  brazen  tower  ;  Jupiter,  however,  accord- 
ing to  the  poets,  gained  access  to  her,  by  transforming  himself 
into  a  golden  shower. 


ANTIGONE. — ACT   HI. 


187 


Yet  was  the  maid  of  noblest  race, 

And  honor'd  ev'n  with  Jove's  embrace.  855 

But,  O  !  when  fate  decree's  a  mortal's  wo, 
Naught  can  reverse  the  doom,  or  stop  the  blow, 
Nor  heaven  above,  nor  earth  and  seas  below. 

ANTISTROPHE    I. 

The  Thracian  monarch,  Dryas'  hapless  son, 

Chain'd  to  a  rock,  in  torment  lay,  860 

And  breathed  his  angry  soul  away. 
By  wrath  misguided,  and  by  pride  undone ; 
Taught  by  the  offending  god  to  know 
From  foul  reproach  what  evils  flow  : 
For  he  the  rites  profaned  with  slanderous  tongue  :  865 
The  holy  llame  he  qnench'd,  disturb'd  the  song. 
And  waked  to  wrath  the  Muses'  tuneful  throng. 

STROPHE    II. 

His  turbid  waves,  where  Salmydessus  roll'd 

And  proud  Cyanea's  rocks  divide  the  flood, 
There  from  thy  temple,  Mars  !  didst  ihou  behold    870 
The  sons  of  Phineus  weltering  in  their  blood. 
A  mother  did  the  cruel  deed  ; 
A  mother  bade  her  children  bleed  : 
Both,  by  her  impious  hand  deprived  of  light. 
In  vain  lamented  long  their  ravish'd  sight,  875 

And  closed  their  eyes  in  never-ending  night. 

ANTISTROPHE    II. 

Long  time  they  wept  a  better  mother's  fate, 
Unhappy  offspring  of  a  luckless  bed ! 

859  Lycurgus,  king  of  Thrace,  for  contemning  or  disturbing 
the  rites  of  Bacchus,  was  chained  to  a  rock,  where  he  pe- 
rished. 

868  Salmydessus  was  a  river  in  Thrace,  near  which  was  a 
temple  dedicated  to  Mars.  The  Cyanere  were  two  rocks,  or 
small  islands,  near  the  Thracian  Bosphorus. 

871  Piexippus  and  Pandion,  whose  eyes  were  put  out  by 
their  step  mother  Idsea,  the  wife  of  Phineus,  after  the  death 
of  their  own  mother  Cleopatra,  the  daughter  of  Boreas  and 
Orithyia,  whose  fate  is  alluded  to  in  the  laiLer  part  of  the  ode. 


188 


SOPHOCLES. 


Yet  nobly  born,  and  eminently  great 

Was  she,  and  midst  sequestered  caverns  bred  ;    880 
Her  father's  angry  storms  among. 
Daughter  of  gods,  from  Boreas  sprung. 
Equal  in  swiftness  to  the  bounding  steed, 
She  skimm'd  the  mountains  with  a  courser's  speed  ; 
Yet  was  the  nymph  to  death  and  misery  decreed.  885 

[Edeunt. 

ACT   IV. 

TIRESIAS,   GUIDE,   CREON,   CHORUS. 

TiR.  Princes  of  Thebes  !  behold,  conducted  hither 
By  my  gentle  guide,  (such  is  the  blind  man's  fate) 
Tiresias  comes. 

Cre.  O  venerable  prophet ! 

What  hast  thou  to  impart  ? 

XiR.  I  will  inform  thee : 

Observe,  and  be  obedient. 

Cre.  Have  I  not  890 

Been  ever  so  ? 
TiR.  Thou  hast ;  and  therefore  Thebes 

Hath  florish'd  still 

Cre.  By  thy  protecting  hand. 

TiR.  Therefore  be  wise  ;  for  know  this  very  hour 
Is  the  important  crisis  of  thy  fate. 

Cre.  Speak,  then,  what  is  it  ?    How  I  dread  thy 
words !  ^^^ 

TiR.  When  thou  hast  heard  the  portents  which  my 

art 
But  now  discovered,  thou  wilt  see  it  all. 

886  The  name  of  princes  among  the  Greeks,  was  given,  not 
only  to  sovereigns,  but  frequently  to  the  principal  and  most 
honorable  members  of  the  commonwealth.  Tiresias,  we  see. 
compliments  the  ancient  citizens  of  Thebes,  who  composed 
the  chorus,  with  this  title. 


ANTIGONE. — ACT  IV. 


189 


900 


Know  then,  that  sitting  on  thy  ancient  throne 

Augurial,  whence  each  divination  comes. 

Sudden  a  strange  unusual  noise  was  heard 

Of  birds,  whose  loud  and  barbarous  dissonance 

I  knew  not  how  to  interpret :  by  the  sound 

Of  clashing  wings,  I  could  discover  well 

That  with  their  bloody  claws  they  tore  each  other. 

Amazed  and  fearful,  instantly  I  tried,  905 

On  burning  altars,  holy  sacrifice ; 

When,  from  the  victim,  lo  !  the  sullen  flame 

Aspired  not ;  smother'd  in  the  ashes,  still 

Laid  the  moist  flesh,  and,  roll'd  in  smoke,  repell'd 

The  rising  fire  ;  whilst  from  their  fat  the  thighs      910 

Were  separate  :  all  these  signs  of  deadly  omen, 

Boding  dark  vengeance,  did  I  learn  from  him. 

[pointing  to  the  guide. 

He  is  my  leader,  king !  and  I  am  thine. 

Then  mark  me  well :  from  thee  these  evils  flow  ; 

From  thy  unjust  decree  :  our  altars  all  915 

Have  been  polluted  by  the  unhallowM  food 

Of  birds  and  dogs,  that  prey'd  upon  the  corse 

Of  wretched  CEdipus*  unhappy  son  ; 

Nor  will  the  gods  accept  our  offered  prayers, 

Or  from  our  hands  receive  the  sacrifice  :  920 

No  longer  will  the  birds  send  forth  their  sounds 

Auspicious,  fatten*d  thus  with  human  blood. 

Consider  this,  my  son  !  and,  O !  remember,  f 

To  err  is  human  ;  'tis  the  common  lot 

Of  frail  mortality  :  and  he  alone  925 

Is  wise  and  happy,  who,  when  ills  are  done, 

Persists  not,  but  would  heal  the  wound  he  made ; 

But  self-sufficient  obstancy  ever 

Is  folly's  utmost  height.    Where  is  the  glory, 

To  slay  the  slain,  or  persecute  the  dead  ?  930 

I  wish  thee  well,  and  therefore  have  spoke  thus ; 


190 


SOPHOCLES. 


ANTIGONE. — ACT  IV. 


191 


935 


940 


945 


When  those  who  love  advise,  'tis  sweet  to  learn. 

Cre.  I  know,  old  man,  I  am  the  general  mark. 
The  butt  of  all,  and  you  all  aim  at  me  : 
For  me,  I  know,  your  prophecies  were  made, 
And  I  am  sold  to  this  detested  race ; 
Betrayed  to  them.     But  make  your  gains  ?  go,  pur- 
chase 
Your  Sardian  amber,  and  your  Indian  gold  ; 
They  shall  not  buy  a  tomb  for  Polynices  : 
No,  should  the  eagle  seek  him  for  his  food. 
And,  towering,  hear  him  to  the  throne  of  Jove, 
I  would  not  bury  him ;  for  well  I  know, 
The  gods  by  mortals  cannot  be  polluted  ; 
But  the  best  men,  by  sordid  gain  corrupt. 
Say  all  that 'sill,  and  fall  beneath  the  lowest. 

TiR.  Who  knows  this,  or  who  dare  accuse  us  of  it? 

Cre.  What  mean'st  thou  by  that  question  ?    Ask'st 
thou  who  ? 
I  TiR.  How  far  is  wisdom  beyond  every  good  ! 
J  Cre.  As  far  as  folly  beyond  every  ill. 

TiR.  That 's  a  distemper  thou  'rt  afflicted  with.    950 

Cre.  I  'II  not  revile  a  prophet. 

XiR.  But  thou  dost ; 

Thou 'It  not  believe  me. 
Cre.  Your  prophetic  race 

Are  lovers  all  of  gold. 

TiR.  Tyrants  are  so, 

Howe'er  ill-gotten. 

Cre.  Know'st  thou  'tis  a  king 

Thou  'rt  talking  thus  to  ? 

TiR.  Yes,  1  know  it  well ; 

A  king,  who  owes  to  me  his  country's  safety. 

Cre.  Thou  'rt  a  wise  prophet,   but  thou   art  un- 
just. 

TiR.  Thou  wilt  oblige  me  then  to  utter  that 


955 


Which  I  had  purposed  to  conceal. 

Cre.  •  Speak  out ; 

Say  what  thou  wilt,  but  say  it  not  for  hire.  960 

TiR.  Thus  may  it  seem  to  thee. 

Cre.     *  But  know,  old  man, 

I  am  not  to  be  sold. 

TiR.  Remember  this  : 

Not  many  days  shall  the  bright  sun  perform 
His  stated  course,  ere,  sprung  from  thy  own  loins, 
Thyself  shall  yield  a  victim  :  in  thy  turn,  965 

Thou  too  shalt  weep,  for  that  thy  cruel  sentence 
Decreed  a  guiltless  virgin  to  the  tomb. 
And  kept  on  earth,  unmindful  of  the  gods, 
Ungraced,  unburied,  an  unhallow'd  corse, 
Which  not  to  thee,  nor  to  the  gods  above  970 

Of  right  belonged  ;  'tw  as  arbitrary  power 
But  the  avenging  Furies  lie  conceal'd ; 
The  ministers  of  death  have  spread  the  snare. 
And  wilh  like  woes  await  to  punish  thee. 
Do  I  say  this  from  hopes  of  promised  gold  P  975 

Pass  but  a  little  time,  and  thou  shalt  hear 
The  shrieks  of  men ;  the  women's  loud  laments, 
O'er  all  thy  palace ;  see  the  oflended  people 
Together  rage  :  thy  cities  all  by  dogs 
And  beasts  and  birds  polluted,  and  the  stench        980 
Of  filth  obscene  on  every  altar  laid, 
Thi;s  from  my  angry  soul  have  I  sent  forth 
Its  keenest  arrows;  (for  thou  hast  pro\oked  me) 
Nor  shall  they  fly  in  vain,  or  thou  escape 
The  destined  blow.     Now,  boy,  conduct  me  home  : 
On  younger  heads  the  tempest  of  his  rage  986 

970  The  heathen  deities  were  divided  into  the  gods  above, 
and  the  gods  below;  to  the  latter  of  these  belonged  the  care 
of  the  dead,  whom  Creon  had  offended  by  refusing  burial  to 
the  corpse  of  Polynices. 


192 


SOPHOCLES. 


Shall  fall ;  but,  henceforth,  let  him  learn  to  speak 
In  humbler  terms,  and  bear  a  better  mind^^^^  ^^^^^^^ 

Cho.  He  's  gone,  and  dreadful  were   his  prophe- 

Since  thesVgray  hairs  were  o'er  -"J  te™P'«»  ^P/* 'J^' ^ 
Naught  from  those  lips  hath  now'd  but  sacred  truth 
Cre.  I   know   there  bath   not,    and  an.    troubled 
much 
For  the  event :  tis  grating  to  submit ; 
And  yet  the  mind,  spite  of  itself,  must  yield 

In  such  distress. 

Cho.  Sonof  Menoeceus!  now  ^o 

Thou  need*st  most  counsel.  ,  •     « 

^^g  What  would  St  thou  advise  P 

I  will  obey  thee. 

Cho.  Set  the  virgin  free, 

And  let  a  tomb  be  raised  for  Polynices. 

Cre.  And  dost  thou  counsel  thus  ?  and  must  I  yield  ? 

Cho.  Immediately,  O  king  !  for  vengeance  falls 
IJVith  hasty  footsteps  on  the  guilty  head.  iwi 

Cre.  I  cannot,  yet  I  must  reverse  the  sentence  : 
There  is  no  struggling  with  necessity. 

Cho.  Do  it  thyself,  nor  trust  another  hand. 

Cre.  I  will ;  and  you,  my  servants,  ^e  Prepared  ; 
Each  with  his  axe  quick  hasten  to  the  place.         1006 
Mvself  (for  thus  I  have  resolved)  will  go, 
And  the  same  hand  that  bound  shall  set  her  free  ; 
For,  O  !  I  fear  'tis  wisest  still  through  life 
To  keep  our  ancient  laws,  and  follow  virtue.         1010 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE  I. 

Bacchus,  by  various  names  to  mortal  known, 
Fair  Semele's  illustrious  son  ! 


ANTIGONE.^ACT   IV. 


193 


Offspring  of  thunder-bearing  Jove, 
Who  honor'st  famed  Italia  with  thy  love  ! 
Who  dwell'st  where    erst  the    dragon's   teeth    were 
strow'd,  1015 

Or  where  Ismenus  pours  his  gentle  flood  ; 
Who  dost  o'er  Ceres'  hallow'd  rites  preside, 
And  at  thy  native  Thebes  propitious  still  reside. 

ANTISTROPHE    I. 

Where  famed  Parnassus'  forked  hills  uprise, 

To  thee  ascends  the  sacrifice  ;  1020 

Corycia's  nymphs  attend  below, 
Whilst  from  Castalia's  fount  fresh  waters  flow  : 
O'er  Nysa's  mountains  wreaths  of  ivy  twine. 
And  mix  their  tendrils  with  the  clustering  vine : 
Around  their  master  crowd  the  virgin  throng,        1025 
And  praise  the  god  of  Thebes  in  never-dying  song. 

STROPHE    II. 

Happiest  of  cities,  Thebes  !  above  the  rest 

By  Semele  and  Bacchus  bless'd  ! 
O  !  visit  now  thy  once  beloved  abode ! 
O  !  heal  our  woes,  thou  kind,  protecting  god  !       1030 
From  steep  Parnassus,  or  the  Euboean  sea, 
With  smiles  auspicious  come,  and  bring  with  thee 
Health,  joy,  and  peace,  and  fair  prosperity.  „ 

ANTISTROPHE    II, 

Immortal  leader  of  the  maddening  choir. 
Whose  torches  blaze  with  unextinguish'd  fire !      1035 
Great  son  of  Jove,  who  guidest  the  tuneful  throng, 
Thou,  who  presidest  o'er  the  nightly  song. 


1021  The  Muses,  so  called  from  Corycium,  at  the  foot  of 
mount  Parnassus. 

1023  Parnassus  is  described  by  the  poets  as  having  two 
tops  ;  one  called  Cirrha,  sacred  to  Apollo  ;  the  other  Nysa, 
sacred  to  Bacchus  :  there  was  also  a  city  in  Arcadia  of  this 
name,  where  Bacchus  was  nursed. 

SOPH.  N 


94 


SOPHOCLES. 


1045 


1060 


Come  with  thy  Naxian  maids,  a  festive  train. 

Who,  wild  with  joy,  and  raging  o  er  the  plain       103J 

For  thee  the  dance  prepare,  to  thee   devote  t^e^^tj^in. 

ACT  V. 

MESSENGER,   CHORUS. 

Mes.  Ye  race  of  Cadmus,  sons  of  ancient  Thebes, 
Henceforth  no  state  of  human  life  by  me 
Shall  be  or  valued  or  despised  ;  for  all 
Depends  on  Fortune :  she  exalts  the  low, 
And  casts  the  mighty  down  :  the  fate  of  men 
Can  never  be  foretold.    There  was  a  time. 
When  Creon  lived  in  envied  happiness  ; 
Ruled  o'er  renowned  Thebes,  which  from  her  foes 
He  had  deliver'd,  with  successful  power: 
Bless'd  in  his  kingdom,  in  his  children  bless  d, 
He  stretch'd  o'er  all  his  universal  sway  :— 
Now  all  is  gone  :  when  pleasure  is  no  more, 
Man  then  is  but  an  animated  corse. 
Nor  can  be  said  to  live :  he  may  be  rich, 
Or  decked  with  regal  honors  ;  but  if  joy 
Be  absent  from  him,  if  he  tastes  them  not, 
'Tis  useless  grandeur  all,  and  empty  shade. 

Cho.  Touching  our  royal  master,  bring  st  thou  news 

Of  sorrow  to  us  ?  .  «,    „^ 

l^£s^  They  are  dead:  and  those 

Who  live,  the  dreadful  cause.  .i.^  in« 

(.^Q  Quick,  tell  us  who  106 

The  slayer  and  the  slain. 

I^gs  Haemon  is  dead. 

1038  Naxos  was  one  of  the  Cyclades,  islands  in  the  Archi- 
neWo  famous  for  its  vines  :  of  the  Nymphs  of  Naxos,  it  is  re- 
S^rtSrat  they  ran  wild  and  frantic  about  the  wood.,  with 
Lch  a  torch,  rthyrsu..  in  her  band,  singing  the  praises  of 
Bacchus. 


1055 


AISTIGONE. — ACT  V. 


195 


Cho.  Dead  !  by  what  hand,  his  father's  or  his  own  ? 

Mes.  Enraged,  and  grieving  for  his  murder'd  love. 
He  slew  himself! 

Cho.  O  prophet !  thy  predictions 

Were  but  too  true. 

Mes.  Since  thus  it  be,  'tis  fit         1065 

We  should  consult;  our  present  state  demands  it, 

Cho.  But  see,  Eurydice,  the  wretched  wife 
Of  Creon,  comes  this  way  :  or  chance  hath  brought  her, 
Or  Haemon's  hapless  fate  hath  reach'd  her  ear. 

Enter  Eurydice. 

Eur.  O  citizens  !  as  to  Minerva's  fane  1070 

Ev'n  now  I  went  to  pay  my  vows,  the  doors 
I  burst,  and  heard  imperfectly  the  sound 
Of  most  disastrous  news,  which  touch'd  me  near: 
Breathless  I  fell  amidst  the  virgin  throng, 
And  now  I  come  to  know  the  dreadful  truth.  1075 

Whate'er  it  be,  I  '11  hear  it  now  ;  for,  O  ! 
I  am  no  stranger  to  calamity. 

Mes.  Then  mark,  my  mistress!  I  will  tell  thee  all, 
Nor  will  I  pass  a  circumstance  unmention'd. 
Should  I  deceive  thee  with  an  idle  tale,  1080 

'Twere  soon  discover'd  ;  truth  is  always  best: 
Know,  then,  I  follow'd  Creon  to  the  field. 
Where,  torn  by  dogs,  the  wretched  carcass  lay 
Of  Polynices ;  first  to  Proserpine 
And  angry  Pluto,  to  appease  their  wrath,  1085 

Our  humble  prayers  addressing,  there  we  laved 
In  the  pure  stream  the  body  ;  then  with  leaves 
Fresh  gather'd  covering,  burnt  his  poor  remains, 
And  on  the  neighboring  turf  a  tomb  upraised  ; 
Then  to  wards  the  virgin's  rocky  cave  advanced,   1090 
When,  from  the  dreadful  chamber  a  sad  cry, 
As  from  afar,  was  heard :  a  servant  ran 


196 


SOPHOCLES. 


1095 


1105 


To  tell  the  king;  and  still,  as  we  approach'd, 

The  sound  of  sorrow,  from  a  voice  unknown 

And  undistinguish'd,  issued  forth.     *  Alas  '/ 

Said  Creon,  *  am  I  then  a  faithful  prophet? 

And  do  I  tread  a  more  unhappy  path 

Than  e'er  I  went  before  ?     It  is  my  son  ; 

I  know  his  voice  :  but  get  ye  to  the  door, 

My  servants,  close  ;  look  throui^h  the  stony  heap  ; 

Mark  if  it  be  so.     Is  it  Haemon's  voice  ?*  1101 

Again  he  cried ;  *  or  have  the  gods  deceived  me  !' 

Thus  spoke  the  king  ;  we,  to  our  mournful  lord 

Obedient,  look'd,  and  saw  Antigone 

Down  in  the  deepest  hollow  of  the  cave 

By  her  own  vestments  hung;  close  by  her  side 

The  wretched  youth,  embracing  in  his  arms 

Her  lifeless  corse,  weeping  his  father's  ciime, 

His  ravish'd  bride,  and  horrid  nuptial  bed. 

Creon  beheld,  and  loud,  approaching,  cried  ;— 

*  What  ?frt   thou  doing?  What's    thy  dreadful 

pose  ? 
What  means  my  son?  come  forth,  my  Haemon,  come; 
Thy  father  begs  thee.'     With  indignant  eye, 
The  youth  look'd  up,  nor  scornful  deign'd  an  answer  ; 
But  silent  drew  his  sword,  and  with  fell  rage         1115 
Struck  at  his  father,  who  by  flighted  escaped 
The  blow;  then  on  himself  bent  all  his  wrath  : 
Full  in  his  side  the  weapon  fixed  ;  but  still. 
Whilst  life  remained,  on  the  soft  bosom  hung 
Of  the  dear  maid,  and  his  last  spirit  breathed         1 120 
O'er  her  pale  cheek,  discolor'd  with  his  blood. 
Thus  lie  the  wretched  pair,  in  death  united, 
And  celebrate  their  nuptials  in  the  tomb  ; 
To  future  times  a  terrible  example 
Of  the  sad  woes  which  rashness  ever  brings.  1 125 

lExit  Eurt,  dice. 


1110 
pur- 


ANTIGONE. — ACT  V. 


197 


Cho.  What  can  this  mean  ?  She's  gone,  without  a 
word. 

Mes.  'Tis  strange  !  and  yet  I  trust  she  will  not  loud 
Proclaim  her  griefs  to  all ;  but  (for  I  know 
She  's  ever  prudent)  with  her  virgin  train. 
In  secret  weep  her  murder'd  Haemon's  fate.  1130 

Cho.  Clamor,  indeed,  were  vain  ;  but  such  deep  si- 
lence 
Doth  ever  threaten  horrid  consequence. 

Mes.  Within  we  soon  shall  know,  if  aught  she  hide 
Of  deadly  purport  in  her  angry  soul; 
For  well  thou  say'st  her  silence  is  most  dreadful.  1135 

\^Ea:it  Messenfjer. 

Cho.  But,  lo  !  the  king  himself;  and  in  his  arms 
See  his  dead  son,  the  monument  accursed 
Of  his  sad  fate,  which,  may  we  say  unblamed. 
Sprang  not  from  other's  guilt,  but  from  his  own. 

Enter  Creon,  bearing  the  body  of  Hcemon, 
Cre.  Ah  me  !  what  deadly  woes  from  the  bad  mind 
Perpetual  flow  !    Thus  in  one  wretched  house       1141 
Have  you  beheld  the  slayer  and  the  slain. 

0  fatal  counsels  !  O  unhappy  son  ! 

Thus  with  thy  youthful  bride  to  sink  in  death ! 
Thou  diest,  ray  child  ;  and  I  alone  have  kill'd  thee! 

Cho.  O  king  !  thy  justice  comes  too  late. 

Cre.  It  doth;  114(5 

1  know  it  well,  unhappy  as  I  am : 

For,  O  !  the  god  this  heavy  weight  of  wo 

Hath  cast  upon  me,  and  his  fiercest  wrath 

Torments  me  now,  changing  my  joyful  state  1150 

To  keenest  anguish.     O  !  the  fruitless  toils 

Of  wretched  mortals  ! 


Mes. 


Enter  Messenger. 

Thus  oppress'dy  my  lord, 


198 


SOPHOCLES. 


ANTIGONE. — ACT  V. 


199 


* 


Is  aught  to 
1155 


With  bitterest  misfortune,  more  affliction 
Awaits  thee  still,  which  thou  wilt  find  within. 
Cre.  And  can  there  be  more  woes? 
come 
More  horrible  than  this? 

Mes.  The  queen  is  dead, 

Her  wounds  yet  fresh  :  eager,  alas  !  to  show 
A  mother's  love,  she  follow'd  her  lost  child. 

Cre.  O  Death  insatiate  !  how  dost  thou  afflict  me  ! 
What  cruel  news,  thou  messenger  of  ill  !  1160 

Hast  thou  brought  now  ? 

Cho.  a  wretch  already  dead 

With  grief,  thy  horrid  tale  once  more  hath  slain. 

Cre.  Didst  thou  not  say  a  fresh  calamity 
Had  fallen  upon  me?     Didst  not  say,  my  wife 
Was  dead,  alas  !  forgrief  of  Haemon's  fate  ?  1165 

[Scene  op:ns,  and  discovers  the  body  of  Eurydice. 
Mes.  Behold  her  there. 

Cre.  O  me  !  another  blow ! 

What  now  remains?     What  can  I  suffer  more, 
Thus  bearing  in  these  arms  my  breathless  son  ? 
My  wife  too  dead  !  O  most  unhappy  mother ! 
And,  O,  thou  wretched  child ! 

Mes.  Close  by  the  altar  1170 

She  drpw  the  sword,  and  closed  her  eyes  in  death, 
Lamenting  first  her  lost  Megareus'  fate 
And  Harmon's  death,  with  imprecations  dire 
Still  pour'd  on  thee,  the  murderer  of  thy  son. 

Cre.  I  shudder  at  it.     Will  no  friendly  hand     1175 
Destroy  me  quick  ?  for,  O  !  I  am  most  wretched ; 
Beset  with  miseries  ! 

Mes.  She  accused  thee  oft. 

And  said  the  guilt  of  both  their  deaths  was  thine. 
Cue.  Alas  !  I  only  am  to  blame ;  'twas  I 


Who  kill'd  thee,  Hi»mon  !  I  confess  my  crime,     1180 
Bear  me,  my  servants !  bear  me  far  from  hence, 

For  I  am nothing. 

Cho.  If  in  ills  like  these 

Aught  can  be  well,  thou  hast  determined  right : 
When  least  we  see  our  woes,  we  feel  them  least. 

Cre.  Quick  let  my  last,  my  happiest  hour  appear : 
Would  it  were  come,  the  period  of  my  woes  !         1186 
O,  that  I  might  not  see  another  day  ! 

Cho.  Time  must  determine  that :  the  present  hour 
Demands  our  care  ;  the  rest  be  left  to  Heaven. 

Cre.  But  I  have  wish'd  and  pray'd  for't. 
i     chq.  Pray  for  nothing  ;  1190 

I  There  's  no  reversing  the  decrees  of  fate. 

'     Cre.  Take  hence  this  useless  load,  this  guilty  wretch 
Who  slew  his  child,  who  slew  ev'n  thee,  my  wife  ! 
I  know  not  whither  to  betake  me,  where 
To  turn  my  eyes ;  for  all  is  dreadful  round  me, 
And  fate  hath  weigh'd  me  down  on  every  side. 
Cho.  Wisdom  alone  is  man's  true  happiness. 
We  are  not  to  dispute  the  will  of  Heaven  : 
For  ever  are  the  boastings  of  the  proud 
By  the  just  gods  repaid,  and  man  at  last 
Is  taught  to  fear  their  anger,  and  be  wise. 


1195 


1200 


1172  Megareus  was  the  first  husband  of  Eurydice, 


T  R  A  C  H  I  N  I  .E, 


T  R  A  C  H  I  N  I  ^. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

Hercules. 

Hyllus,  his  son. 

Dejanira,  wife  of  Hercules. 

LiCHAS,  a  herald. 

Attendant  on  Dejanira. 

Nurse. 

Old  Man. 

Messenger. 

Chorus,  composed  of  virgins  of  Trachis. 


ARGUMENT. 

Iole,  the  daughter  of  Eurytus,  king  of  CEchalia,  was  sought 
in  marriage  by  Hercules,  who,  in  revenge  for  the  rejection 
of  his  addresses,  killed  her  brother  Iphitus.  Hercules, 
shortly  after,  became  a  successful  suitor  of  Dejanira,  and 
married  her.  Being  compelled  to  seek  a  temporary  shelter 
in  Trachis,  he  committed  the  custody  of  his  wife  to  Ceyx, 
the  king  of  that  country,  and  made  an  incursion  into  CEcha- 
lia. Iole  now  fell  into  the  hands  of  her  former  lover,  whose 
aflFection  met  with  reciprocal  tenderness ;  and  Dejanira, 
secretly  informed  of  her  husband's  attachment  to  her  more 
fortunate  rival,  sent  by  the  hands  of  Lichas,  a  poisoned 
tunic,  which  she  had  formerly  received  as  a  philtre  from 
the  centaur  Nessus,  when  expiring ;  and  which,  he  then 
told  her,  had  the  power  of  recalling  an  inconstant  man  from 
the  temptations  of  unlawful  love.  The  unfortunate  hero, 
attired  in  this  fatal  garment,  soon  became  sensible  of  his  ap- 
proaching end  ;  and,  in  his  rage,  threw  Lichas  into  the  sea ; 
after  which  he  directed  his  son  Hyllus  to  convey  him  im- 
mediately te  Mount  CEta,  and  to  burn  him  on  a  funeral  pile, 
to  be  there  erected  :  while  Dejanira,  in  despair  for  the 
mischief  she  had  caused,  destroyed  herself. 


ACT  I. 

Scene  before  the  palace  of  Ceyx,  in  Trachis. 

DEJANIRA,    ATTENDANT. 

Dej.  Of  ancient  fame,  and  long  for  truth  received. 
Hath  been  the  maxim,  that  nor  good  nor  ill 


1204 


SOPHOCLES. 


Can  mortal  life  be  call'd,  before  we  die. 

Alas  !  it  is  not  so  ;  for,  O  my  friends ! 

Ere  to  the  shades  of  Orcus  I  descend,  5 

Too  well  I  know  that  Dejanira's  life 

Hath  ever  been,  and  ever  must  be  wretched. 

Whilst,  in  my  native  Pleuron,  CEneus  watch'd 

My  tender  years  with  kind,  paternal  care, 

If  ever  woman  sufler'd  from  the  dread  10 

Of  hated  nuptials,  I  endured  the  worst 

And  bitterest  woes,  when  Achelous  came, 

The  river-god,  to  ask  a  father's  voice. 

And  snatch'd  me  to  his  arms.     With  triple  form 

He  came  affrighting  ;  now,  to  sight  appear'd  15 

A  bull ;  and  now,  with  motley  scales  adorn'd, 

A  wreathed  serpent;  now  with  human  shape 

And  bestial  head  united  :  from  his  beard, 

Shadow'd  with  hair,  as  from  a  fountain,  dripp'd 

The  overflowing  water;  horrid  form  !  20 

This  to  escape,  my  prayers  incessant  rose. 

That  I  might  rather  die  than  e'er  approach 

His  hated  bed  ;  when,  lo  !  the  welcome  hour, 

Though  late,  arrived,  that  brought  the  son  of  Jove 

And  fair  Alcmena  to  my  aid  :  he  came,  25 

He  fought,  he  freed  me.     How  the  battle  pass'd, 

Who  unconcern'd  beheld  it  best  can  tell ; 

Alas!  I  saw  it  not,  oppress'd  with  fear. 

Lest  from  my  fatal  beauty  should  arise 

Some  sad  event:  at  length,  deciding  Jove  30 

Gave  to  the  doubtful  fight  a  happy  end, 

8  A  city  of  iEtolia,  and  the  residence  of  CEneus,  king  of 
that  country,  and  father  of  Dejanira. 

12  A  famous  river,  arising  out  of  Mount  Pindus,  and  di- 
viding jEtolia  from  Arcarnania.  The  fabulous  account  of  his 
person  and  powers  is  received  by  the  ancient  poets,  and  ex- 
plained by  the  mythologists. 


TKACHlNLt, — ACT    I. 


205 


40 


45 


If  I  may  call  it  so ;  for,  since  the  hour 

That  gave  me  to  Alcides'  wish'd-for  bed. 

Fears  rise  on  fears  ;  still  is  my  anxious  heart 

Solicitous  for  him  :  ofttimes  the  night,  35 

Which  brings  him  to  me,  bears  him  from  my  arms 

To  other  labors,  and  a  second  toil. 

Our  children  too,  alas!  he  sees  them  not. 

But  as  the  husbandman,  who  ne'er  beholds 

His  distant  lands,  save  at  the  needful  time 

Of  seed  or  harvest.     Wandering  thus,  and  thus 

Returning  ever,  is  he  sent  to  serve 

I  know  not  whom  :  when  crown'd  with  victory, 

Then  most  my  fears  prevail ;  for  since  he  slew 

The  valiant  Iphitus,  at  Trachis  here 

We  live  in  exile  with  our  generous  friend. 

The  hospitable  Ceyx  ;  he,  meantime. 

Is  gone,  and  none  can  tell  me  where  :  he  went, 

And  left  me  most  unhappy.     O  !  some  ill 

Hath  siire  befallen  him !  for  no  little  time 

Hath  he  been  absent;  'tis  full  fifteen  moons 

Since  I  beheld  him,  and  no  messenger 

Is  come  to  Dejanira  :  some  misfortune 

Doubtless  hath  happen'd,  for  he  left  behind 

A  dreadful  scroll.     O  !  I  have  pray'd  the  gods 

A  thousand  times  it  may  contain  no  ill. 

Att.  My  royal  mistress,  long  have  I  beheld 
Thy  tears  and  sorrows  for  thy  lost  Alcides  ; 
But  if  the  counsels  of  a  slave  might  claim 
Attention,  I  would  speak,  would  ask  thee  wherefore, 
Amongst  thy  sons,  a  numerous  progeny,  61 

None  hath  been  sent  in  search  of  him,  and  chief 

45  Iphitus  was  the  son  of  Eurytus,  king  of  (Echalia,  and 
was  slain  by  Hercules  ;  who,  as  an  expiation  for  the  crime, 
submitted  to  a  voluntary  exile  at  Trachis,  under  the  protec- 
tion of  Ceyx,  the  king  of  that  country. 


50 


55 


206 


SOPHOCLES. 


tRACHINI^E. — ACT  I. 


207 


Thy  Hyllus,  if  he  holds  a  father's  health 
And  safety  dear  :  but  ev'n  as  we  could  wish, 
Behold  him  here  ;  if  what  I  have  advised 
Seem  fitting,  he  is  come  in  happiest  hour 
To  execute  our  purpose. 


65 


Enter  Hyllus. 

Dej.  O  my  son  ! 

Oft  from  the  meanest  tongue  the  words  of  truth 
And  safety  flow:  this  woman,  though  a  slave, 
Hath  spoke  what  would  have  well  become  the  mouth 
Of  freedom's  self  to  utter. 

Hyl.  May  I  know  71 

What  she  hath  said  ? 

Dej.  She  says,  it  doth  reflect 

Disgrace  on  thee,  thy  father  so  long  absent, 
Not  to  have  gain'd  some  knowlcge  of  his  fate. 

Hyl.  I  have  already,  if  I  may  rely  75 

On  what  report  hath  said  of  him. 

Dej.  O!  where, 

Where  is  he  then,  my  son  ? 

Hyl.  These  twelve  months  past, 

If  fame  say  true,  a  Lydian  woman  held  him 
In  shameful  servitude. 

Dej.  If  it  be  so. 

May  every  tongue  reproach  him! 

Hyl.  But  I  hear         80 

He  now  is  free. 

Dej.  And  where  doth  rumor  say 

He  is  ?    Alive  or  dead  ? 

Hyl.  'Tis  saii,  he  leads, 

Or  means  to  lead,  his  forces  towards  Euboea, 
The  land  of  Eurytus. 

Dej.  Alas,  my  son  ! 

Dost  thou  not  know  the  oracles  be  left  85 


Touching  that  kingdom  ? 

Hyl.  No,  I  know  not  of  them  : 

What  were  they  ? 

Dej,  There,  he  said,  or  he  should  die, 

Or,  if  he  should  survive,  his  life  to  come 
Would  all  be  happy.     Wilt  thou  not,  my  son  ! 
In  this  important  crisis,  strive  to  aid  90 

Thy  father  ?    If  he  lives,  we  too  shall  live 
In  safety  ;  if  he  dies,  we  perish  with  him. 

Hyl.  Mother  !  I  go :  long  since  I  had  been  there, 
But  that  the  oracle  did  never  reach 
Mine  ears  before  :  meantime,  that  happy  fate,  95 

Which  on  my  father  ever  wont  to  smile 
Propitious,  should  not  suffer  us  to  fear. 
Thus  far  inform'd,  I  will  not  let  the  means 
Of  truth  escape  me,  but  will  know  it  all. 

Dej.  Haste  then  away,  my  son,  and  know,  good 

deeds,  100 

Though  late  performed,  are  crown'd  with  sure  success. 

[Ejcit  Hyllus. 
Enter  Chorus. 

STROPHE    I. 

On  thee  we  call,  great  god  of  day  ! 
To  whom  the  night,  with  all  her  starry  train. 
Yields  her  solitary  reign, 
To  send  us  some  propitious  ray  :  105 

Say  thou,  whose  all-beholding  eye 
Doth  nature's  every  part  descry. 
What  dangerous  ocean,  or  what  land  unknown 
From  Dejanira  keeps  Alcmena's  valiant  son  ! 

antistrophe  I. 
For  she  nor  joy  nor  comfort  knows,  1 10 

But  weeps  her  absent  lord,  and  vainly  tries 
To  close  her  ever-streaming  eyes, 
Orsoothe  her  sorrows  to  repose : 


208 


SOPHOCLES. 


TRACHINI^. — ACT  I. 


209 


I 


Like  the  sad  bird  of  night,  alone 

She  makes  her  solitary  moan  ;  115 

And  still,  as  on  her  widow'd  bed  reclined 
She  lies,  unnumber'd  fears  perplex  her  anxious  mind. 

STROPHE   II. 

Ev'n  as  the  troubled  billows  roar. 
When  angry  Boreas  rules  the  inclement  skies, 
And  waves  on  waves  tumultuous  rise  120 

To  lash  the  Cretan  shore  ; — 
Thus,  sorrows  still  on  sorrows  pressed, 
Fill  the  great  Alcides'  breast. 
Unfading  yet  shall  his  fair  virtues  bloom, 
And  some  protecting  god  preserve  him  from  the  tomb. 

ANTISTROPHE   II. 

Wherefore,  to  better  thoughts  inclined,  126 

Let  us  with  hope's  fair  prospect  fill  thy  breast, 

Calm  thy  anxious  thoughts  to  rest. 
And  ease  thy  troubled  mind. 

No  bliss  on  man,  unmix'd  with  wo,  130 

Doth  Jove,  great  lord  of  all,  bestow  ; 
But  good  with  ill,  and  pleasure  still  with  pain. 
Like  heaven's  revolving  signs,  alternate  reign. 

EPODE. 

Not  always  do  the  shades  of  night  remain. 

Nor  ever  with  hard  fate  is  man  oppressed  ;  135 

The  wealth  that  leaves  us  may  return  again  ; 
Sorrow  and  joy  successive  fill  the  breast : 
Fearless  then  of  every  ill. 
Let  cheerful  hope  support  thee  still. 
Remember,  queen  !  there  is  a  power  above  ;  140 

And  when  did  the  great  father,  careful  Jove, 
Forget  his  children  dear,  and  kind  paternal  love  ? 

Dej.  The  fame,  it  seems,  of  Dejanira's  woes 
Hath  reachM  thine  ears  ;  but,  O  !  thou  little  know'st 
What  I  have  suffer'd  ;  thoujiast  never  felt  145. 


Sorrows  like  mine ;  and  long  may  be  the  time 

Ere  sad  experience  shall  afflict  thy  soul 

With  equal  woes  !  Alas !  the  youthful  maid 

In  flowery  pastures  still  exulting  feeds. 

Nor  feels  the  scorching  sun,  the  wintry  storm,        150 

Or  blast  of  angry  winds  :  secure  she  leads 

A  life  of  pleasure,  void  of  every  care, 

Till  to  the  virgin's  happy  state  succeeds 

The  name  of  wife  :  then  shall  her  portion  come 

Of  pain  and  anguish  ;  then  her  terrors  rise  155 

For  husband  and  for  children  ;  then,  perchance, 

You  too  may  know  what  'tis  to  be  unhappy. 

And  judge  of  my  misfortunes  by  your  own. 

Long  since,  oppress'd  by  many  a  bitter  wo. 

Oft  have  I  wept ;  but  this  transcends  them  all :        160 

For  I  will  tell  thee,  when  Alcides  last 

Forth  on  his  journey  went,  he  left  behind 

An  ancient  scroll.     Alas  !  before  that  time 

In  all  his  labors  he  did  never  use 

To  speak  as  one  who  thought  of  death  ;  secure       165 

Always  he  seem'd  of  victory  :  but  now 

This  writing  marks  as  if  he  were  to  die. 

The  portion  but  reserved  for  me,  and  wills 

His  children  to  divide  the  inheritance; 

Fixes  the  time,  in  fifteen  moons,  it  says,  170 

He  should  return  ;  that  past,  or  he  must  perish  ; 

Or,  if  he  'scape  the  fatal  hour,  thenceforth 

Should  lead  a  life  of  happiness  and  joy. 

Thus  had  the  gods,  it  said,  decreed  his  life 

And  toil  should  end;  so  from  their  ancient  beech    175 

Dodona's  doves  foretold.     The  appointed  hour 

Approaches  that  must  bring  the  event,  ev'n  now, 

176  At  Dodona.  a  city  of  Chaonia  in  Epirus,  was  a  temple 
dedicated  to  Jupiter  Dodoneus  ;  and  in  a  grove  near  it  a 
beech-tree,  on  which  two  doves  sat  and  prophesied. 

SOPH.  O 


210 


SOPHOCLES. 


My  friends ;  and  therefore  nightly  do  I  start 
From  my  sweet  slumbers,  struck  with  deadly  fear, 
Lest  I  should  lose  the  dearest,  best  of  men.  180 

Cho.  Of  better  omen  be  thy  words  :  behold 
A  messenger,  who  bears  (for  on  his  brow 
I  see  the  laurel  crown)  some  joyful  news. 

Enter  Messenger; 
Mes.  I  come,  my  royal  mistress,  to  remove 
Thy  fears,  and  bring  the  first  glad  tidings  to  thee  ;  185 
To  tell  thee  that  Alcmena's  son  returns 
With  life  and  victory  :  ev'n  now  he  comes, 
To  lay  before  his  country's  gods  the  spoils 

Of  glorious  war. 

Dej.  What  dost  thou  say,  old  man  ? 

What  dost  thou  tell  me  ? 
Mes.  That  thy  dear  Alcides, 


Thy  valiant  lord,  with  his  victorious  bands, 

Will  soon  attend  thee. 

Dej.  From  our  citizens 

Didst  thou  learn  this,  or  from  a  stranger's  tongue  ? 

Mes.  The  herald  Lichas,  in  yon  flowery  vale, 
But  now  reported;  and  I  fled  impatient. 
Soon  as  I  heard  it,  that  I  first  might  tell^thee, 
And  be  rewarded  for  the  welcome  tale. 

Dej.  But  wherefore  tarries  Lichas,  if  he  bring 
Glad  tidings  to  me  ? 

Mes.  'Tis  impossible 

Tojeach  thee,  for  the  Melian  people  throng 
Around  him  ;  not  a  man  but  longs  to  know 
Some  news  of  thy  Alcides,  stops  his  journey, 
Nor  will  release  him  till  he  hear  it  all : 
Spite  of  himself,  he  waits  to  satisfy 
Their  eager  doubts  ;  but  thou  wilt  see  him  soon. 


191 


196 


200 


206 


Dej.  0,  thou,  who  dweU'st  on  CEta's  sacred  top ! 


TRACHtNl^. — ACT  I. 


211 


216 


220 


Immortal  Jove  !  at  length,  though  late,  thou  givest 

The  wish'd-for  boon  ;  let  every  female  now— 

You  that  within  the  palace  do  reside. 

And  you,  my  followers  here,  with  shouts  proclaim  210 

The  bless'd  event :  for,  lo !  a  beam  of  joy, 

I  little  hoped,  breaks  forth,  and  we  are  happy. 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE. 

Quick  let  sounds  of  mirth  and  joy 
Every  cheerful  hour  employ  : 
Haste,  and  join  the  festive  song. 
You,  who  lead  the  youthful  throng; 
On  whom  the  smiles  of  prosperous  fate, 
And  Hymen's  promised  pleasures  wait. 
Now  all  your  lo  Paeans  sing, 
To  Phoebus,  your  protector  and  your  king. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

And  you,  ye  virgin  train  !  attend. 
Not  unmindful  of  your  friend. 
His  sister  huntress  of  the  groves, 
Who  still  her  native  Delos  loves. 
Prepare  the  dance  and  choral  lays, 
To  hymn  the  chaste  Diana's  praise ; 
To  her  and  her  attendant  choir 
Of  mountain-nymphs,  attune  the  votive  lyre. 

EPODE. 

Already  hath  the  god  possess'd 
My  soul,  and  rules  the  sovereign  of  my  breast. 

Evoe,  Bacchus !  lo  !  I  come  to  join 
Thy  throng ;  around  me  doth  the  thyrsus  twine, 

And  I  am  fill'd  with  rage  divine. 

See  !  the  glad  messenger  appears, 
To  calm  thy  doubts,  and  to  remove  thy  fears. 

Let  us  our  lo  Paeans  sing 
To  Phoebus,  our  protector  and  our  king.         \Ex4\mt, 


225 


230 


236 


212 


SOPHOCLES. 


ACT  II. 

DEJANIRA,    CHORUS. 

Dej.  These  eyes  deceive  roe,  friends,  or  I  behold 
A  crowd  approach  this  way,  and  with  them  comes 
The  herald  Lichas  :  let  me  welcome  him,  240 

If  he  bring  joyful  news. 

Enter  Lichas,  Iole,  Slaves. 

j^i  My  royal  mistress ; 

We  greet  thee  with  fair  tidings  of  success. 
And  therefore  shall  our  words  deserve  thy  praise. 

Dej.  O  thou  dear  messenger !  inform  me  first 
What  first  I  wish  to  know  ;  my  loved  Alcides,—    245 
Doth  he  yet  live  ?    Shall  I  again  behold  him  ? 

Li.  I  left  him  well ;  in  health  and  manly  strength 

Exulting. 
Dej.  Where  ?    In  his  own  native  land. 

Or  'midst  barbarians  ? 

L,,  On  Euboea's  shore 

He  waits,  with  various  fruits  to  crown  the  altar,     250 

And  pay  due  honors  to  Cenaean  Jove. 

Dej.  Commanded  by  some  oracle  divine 
Performs  he  this,  or  means  but  to  fulfil 
A  vow  of  gratitude  for  conquest  gain'd  ? 

Li.    For  victory  o'er  the   land,   whence   we  have 
brought  255 

These  captive  women,  whom  thou  seest  before  thee. 

Dej.  Whence  come  the  wretched  slaves?   for,  if  I 
judge 
Their  state  aright,  they  must  indeed  be  wretched. 

Li.  Know,  when  Alcides  had  laid  waste  the  city 
Of  Eurytus,  to  him  and  to  the  gods  260 

251  So  called  from  Cenaeum,  a  promontory  in  Euboea,  where 
alUrs  were  raised  to  Jupiter,  and  sacrifice  oflfered  up  to  him. 


TRACHINI^. — ACT  II. 


213 


265 


270 


275 


Were  these  devoted. 

Dej^  In  OEchalia  then 

Hath  my  Alcides  been  this  long,  long  time  ? 

Li.  Not  so:  in  Lydia  (as  himself  reports) 

Was  he  detain'd  a  slave  ;  so  Jove  ordain'd. 

And  who  shall  blame  the  high  decrees  of  Jove  ? 

Sold  to  barbarian  Omphale,  he  served 

Twelve  tedious  months  :  ill  brook'd  he  the  foul  shame ; 

Then  in  his  wrath  he  made  a  solemn  vow 

He  would  revenge  the  wrong  on  the  base  author. 

And  bind  in  chains  his  wife  and  all  his  race; 

Nor  fruitless  the  resolve ;  for  when  the  year 

Of  slavery  past  had  expiated  the  crime 

Imputed,  soon  with  gather'd  force  he  march'd 

'Gainst  the  devoted  Eurytus,  the  cause 

(For  so  he  deem'd  him)  of  those  hateful  bonds. 

Within  his  palace  he  had  erst  received 

Alcides,  but  with  bitterest  taunts  reviled  him, 

Boasting,  in  spite  of  his  all-conquering  arrows, 

His  son's  superior  skill ;  and  said,  a  slave 

Like  him  should  bend  beneath  a  freeman's  power :  280 

Then,  'midst  the  banquet's  mirth,  infiamed  with  wme. 

Cast  forth  his  ancient  guest.    This  to  revenge, 

When  Iphitus  to  search  his  pastured  steeds 

Came  to  Tirynthia,  Hercules  surprised  ; 

And,  as  he  turn'd  his  wandering  eyes  aside,  285 

Hurl'd  headlong  from  the  mountain's  top.    Great  Jove 

Father  of  men,  from  high  Olympus  saw 

And  disapproved  the  deed,  unworthy  him. 

Who  ne'er  before  by  fraud  destroyed  his  foes. 

With  open  force  had  he  revenged  the  wrong. 

Jove  had  forgiven  ;  but  violence  conceal'd 

The  gods  abhor,  and  therefore  was  he  sold 

266  A  queen  of  Lydia.  ;, 


290 


214 


SOPHOCLES. 


To  slavery  :  Eurytus'  unhappy  sons 

Were  punish'd  too,  and  dwell  in  Erebus ; 

Their  city  is  destroyed  ;  and  Ihey,  whom  here         295 

Thou  seest,  from  freedom  and  prosperity 

Reduced  to  wretchedness  :  to  thee  they  come, 

Such  was  Alcides*  will ;  which  I,  his  slave, 

Have  faithfully  perform'd.     Himself  ere  long 

Thou  shalt  behold,  when  to  pa'ernal  Jove  300 

He  hath  fulfilFd  his  vows.     Thus  my  long  tale 

Ends  with  the  welcomest  news  which  thou  couldst  hear ; 

Alcides  comes  ! 

Cho.  O  queen  !  thy  happiness 

Is  great  indeed,  to  see  these  slaves  before  thee, 
And  know  thy  lord  approaches. 

Dej.  I  am  happy :        305 

To  see  my  Hercules  with  victory  crown'd, 
*Tis  fit  I  should  rejoice  ;  and  yet,  my  friends. 
If  we  consider  well,  we  still  should  fear 
For  the  successful,  lest  they  fall  from  bliss. 
It  moves  my  pity  much  when  I  behold  310 

These  wretched  captives  in  a  foreign  land, 
Without  a  parent,  and  without  a  home. 
Thus  doom'd  to  slavery  here,  who  once,  perhaps, 
Enjoy'd  fair  freedom's  best  inheritance. 
O  Jove  !  averter  of  each  mortal  ill !  315 

Let  not  my  children  ever  feel  thy  arm 
Thus  raised  against  them  :  or,  if  'tis  decreed. 
Let  it  not  be  whilst  Dejanira  lives. 
The  sight  of  these  alarms  my  fears  :  but  tell  me. 
Thou  poor  afflicted  captive  !   who  thou  art.       [to  lole. 
Art  thou  a  mother  ?  or,  as  by  thy  years  321 

Thou  seem'st,  a  virgin,  and  of  noble  birth  P 
Canst  not  thou  tell  me,  Lichas,  whence  she  sprang  ? 
Inform  me  ;  for,  of  all  these  slaves,  she  most 
Hath  won  my  pity  ;  and  in  her  alone  '  325 


'-  * 


n 


TRACHlNIiE. — ACT  II. 

Have  I  observed  a  firm  and  generous  mind. 
Li.  Why  ask  of  me  ?  I  know  not  who  she  is  ; 

Perhaps  of  no  mean  rank. 

Dej^  The  royal  race 

Of  Eurytus? 

Li.  I  know  not,  nor  did  e  er 

Inquire. 

Dej.      And  didst  thou  never  Jear  her  name 

From  her  companions  ? 
L,^  Never :  I  perform  d 

My  work  in  silence. 

Dej^  Tell  me  then  thyself. 

Thou  wretched  maid  !  for  I  am  most  unhappy 

Till  I  know  who  thou  art. 

Lj  She  will  not  speak ; 


215 


330 


335 


I  know  she  will  not:  not  a  word  hath  pass'd 
Her  lips  e'er  since  she  left  her  native  land  ; 
But  still  in  tears  the  hapless  virgin  mourns 
The  burden  of  her  sad  calamity. 
Her  fate  is  hard  :  she  merits  your  forgiveness. 

Dej.  Let  her  go  in  :  I  il  not  disturb  her  peace,  340 
Nor  would  I  heap  fresh  sorrows  on  her  head  ; 
She  hath  enough  already  :  we  '11  retire. 
Go  where  thou  wilt ;  my  cares  within  awaitme.  \to  lole. 

Exeunt  Lichas,  lole,  and  Slaves. 

Enter  Messenger. 
Mes.  Stay  thee  awhile.    I  have  a  tale  to  tell 
Touching  these  captives,  which  imports  thee  nearly  ; 
And  I  alone  am  able  to  inform  thee.  346 

Dej.  What  dost  thou  know?  and  why  wouldst  thou 

detain  me  ? 
Mes.  Return,  and  hear  me :  when  I  spake  before, 
I  did  not  speak  in  vain,  nor  shall  I  now.  ^ 

Dej.  Wouldst  thou  I  call  them  back,  or  mean  st  to 


216 


SOPHOCLES. 


Thy  secret  purpose  here  to  me  alone  ? 
Mes.  To  thee,  and  these  thy  friends ;  no  more. 
I>EJ.  They  're  gone  ; 

Now  speak  in  safety, 

Mes.  Lichas  is  dishonest ; 

And,  either  now  or  when  I  saw  him  last, 
Hath  utter'd  falsehood. 

Dej.  ,Ha  !  What  dost  thou  say  ?    355 

I  understand  thee  not ;  explain  it  quickly. 

Mes.  I  heard  him  say,  before  attendant  crowds, 
It  was  this  virgin,  this  fair  slave,  destroyed 
(Echalia's  lofty  lowers ;  'twas  love  alone 
That  waged  the  war,  no  Lydian  servitude,  360 

Nor  Omphale,  nor  the  pretended  fall 
Of  Iphitus,  for  so  the  tale  he  brings 
Would  fain  persuade  thee.      Know,  thy  own   Al- 

cides. 
For  that  he  could  not  gain  the  assenting  voice 
Of  Eurytus  to  his  unlawful  love,  365 

Laid  waste  the  city  where  her  father  reign'd, 
And  slew  him  :  now  the  daughter,  as  a  slave. 
Is  sent  to  thee ;  the  reason  is  too  plain. 
Nor  think  he  meant  her  for  a  slave  alone, — 
The  maid  he  loves  ;  that  would  be  strange  indefed.  370 
My  royal  mistress  !  most  unwillingly 
Do  I  report  the  unwelcome  news,  but  thought 
It  was  my  duty:  I  have  told  the  truth, 
And  the  Trachinians  bear  me  witness  of  it. 

Dej.  Wretch  that  I  am !  to  what  am  I  reserved  ! 
What  hidden  pestilence  within  my  roof  376 

Have  I  received  unknowing  !     Hapless  woman  ! 
She  seem'd  of  beauteous  form  and  noble  birth  : 
Have  you  not  heard  her  name  ?  for  Lichas  said 
He  knew  it  not. 

Mes.  Daughter  of  Eurytus,       i  380 

Her  name  lole ;  he  had  not  inquired 


TRACHINI^. — ACT   IK 


217 


Touching  her  race. 

Cho.  Perdition  on  the  man. 

Of  all  most  wicked,  who  hath  thus  deceived  thee  ! 

Dej.  What 's  to  be  done,  my  friend?  This  dreadful 
news 
Afflicts  me  sorely. 

Cho.  Go,  and  learn  the  whole        385 

From  his  own  lips  ;  compel  him  to  declare 
The  truth. 

Dej.  I  will ;  thou  counsell'st  me  aright 

Cho.  Shall  we  attend  you  ? 

Dej.  No  ;  for  see  he  comes 

Uncall'd. 

Enter  Lichas,  Attendant. 

Li.  O  queen  !  what  are  thy  last  commands 

To  thy  Alcides  ?  for  ev'n  now  I  go  390 

To  meet  him. 

Dej.  Hast  thou  taken  so  long  a  journey 

To  Trachis,  and  wouldst  now  so  soon  return. 
Ere  I  can  hold  some  farther  converse  with  thee  ? 

Li.  If  thou  wouldst  question  me  of  aught,  behold  me 
Ready  to  tell  thee. 

Dej.  Wilt  thou  tell  me  truth  ?        395 

Li.  In  all  I  know ;  so  bear  me  witness,  Jove ! 

Dej.  Who  is  that  woman  thou  hast  brought  ? 

Li.  I  l»ear 

She 's  of  Euboea :  for  her  race  and  name, 
I  know  them  not. 

Dej.  Look  on  me  :  who  am  I  ? 

Li.  Why  ask  me  this  ? 

Dej.  Be  bold,  answer  me.  400 

Li.  Daughter  of  (Eneus,  wife  of  Hercules ; 
If  I  am  not  deceived,  'tis  Dejanira, 
My  queen,  my  mistress. 

Dej.  Am  I  so  indeed  ? 


218 


SOPHOCLES. 


Am  I  thy  mistress  ? 

Li.  Doubtless. 

Dej.  Why, 'tis  well 

Thou  dost  confess  it :  then  what  punishment  405 

Wouldst  thou  deserve,  if  thou  wert  faithless  to  her? 

Li.  How  faithless  ?    Meanest  thou  to  betray  me  P 

Dej.  No  : 

The  fraud  is  thine. 

Li.  'Twas  folly  thus  to  stay 

And  hear  thee :  I  must  hence. 

Dej.  Thou  shalt  not  go 

Till  I  have  ask'd  thee  one  short  question. 

Li.  Ask  it,  410 

For  so  it  seems  thou  art  resolved. 

Dej.  Inform  me  ; 

This  captive, — dost  thou  know  her? 

Li.  I  have  told  thee 

What  wouldst  thou  more  ? 

Dej.  Didst  thou  not  say,  this  slave, 

Though  now,   it  seems,  thou  know'st   her    not,  was 

daughter 
Of  Eurytus,  her  name  lole? 

Li.  Where  ?  415 

To  whom  did  I  say  this  ?     What  witness  have  you  ? 

Dej.  Assembled  multitudes  :  the  citizens 
Of  Trachis  heard  thee. 

Li.  They  might  say  they  heard 

Reports  like  these  ;  but  must  it  therefore  seem 
A  truth  undoubted  ? 

Dej.  Seem  ?  Didst  thou  not  swear  420 

That  thon  hadst  brought  this  woman  to  partake 
The  bed  of  my  Alcides  ? 

Li.  Did  I  say  so? 

But  tell  mc  who  this  stranger  is. 

Pej.  The  nan 


TRACHlNliE.— ACT  II. 


219 


440 


Who  heard  thee  say,  Alcides'  love  for  her, 

And  not  the  Lydian,  laid  the  city  waste.  425 

Li.  Let  him  come  forth,  and  prove  it :  'tis  no  mark 
Of  wisdom  thus  to  trifle  with  the  unhappy. 

Dej.  O  !  do  not,  I  beseech  thee,  by  that  Power, 
Whose  thunders  roll  o'er  CEta's  lofty  grove. 
Do  not  conceal  the  truth.     Thou  speak'st  to  one     430 
Not  unexperienced  in  the  ways  of  men  ; 
To  one,  who  knows  we  cannot  always  joy 
In  the  same  object :  'tis  an  idle  task 
To  take  up  arms  against  all-powerful  love. 
Love,  which  commands  the  gods,  love  conquer'd  me, 
And  wherefore  should  it  not  subdue  another,  436 

Whose  nature  and  whose  passions  are  the  same  ? 
If  my  Alcides  is  indeed  oppress'd 
With  this  sad  malady,  I  blame  him  not ; 
That  were  a  folly  :  nor  this  hapless  maid, 
Who  meant  no  ill,  no  injury  to  me. 
Tis  not  for  this  I  speak  ;  but,  mark  me  well : 
If  thou  wert  taught  by  him  to  utter  falsehood, 
A  vile  and  shameful  lesson  didst  thou  learn  ; 
And  if  thou  art  thy  own  instructor,  know, 
Thou  shalt  seem  wicked  ev'n  when  most  sincere. 
And  never  be  believed  :  speak  then  the  truth  ; 
For  to  be  branded  with  the  name  of  liar, 
Is  ignominy  fit  for  slaves  alone. 
And  not  for  thee.     Nor  think  thou  canst  conceal  it ; 
Those  who  have  heard  the  tale  will  tell  it  me.  451 

If  fear  deters  thee,  thou  hast  little  cause ; 
For  to  suspect  his  falsehood,  is  my  grief ; 
To  know  it,  none  :  already  have  I  seen 
Alcides'  heart  estranged  to  other  loves. 
Yet  did  no  rival  ever  hear  from  me 
One  bitter  word,  nor  will  I  now  reproach 
This  wretched  slave,  ev'n  though  she  pines  for  him 


445 


455 


220 


SOPHOCLES. 


With  strongest  love.     Alas  !  I  pity  her. 
Whose  beauty  thus  hath  been  the  fatal  cause  460 

Of  all  her  misery ;  laid  her  country  waste. 
And  brought  her  here,  far  from  her  native  land, 
A  helpless  captive  :  but  no  more  of  this  ; 
Only  remember,  if  thou  must  be  false, 
Be  false  to  others,  but  be  true  to  me.  465 

Cho.    She  speaks   most   kindly  to   thee;    be   per- 
suaded ; 
Hereafter  thou  shalt  find  her  not  ungrateful. 
We  too  will  thank  thee. 

Li.  O,  my  dearest  mistress  ! 

Not  unexperienced  thou  in  human  life, 
Nor  ignorant ;  and  therefore  naught  from  thee        470 
Will  I  conceal,  but  tell  thee  all  the  truth. 
'Tis  as  he  said ;  and  Hercules,  indeed, 
Doth  love  lole :  for  her  sake  alone, 
CEchalia,  her  unhappy  country,  fell ; 
This  (for  'tis  fit  I  tell  thee)  he  confess'd,  475 

Nor  wiird  me  to  conceal  it ;  but  I  fear'd 
'Twould    pierce  thy   heart   to   hear   the   unwelcome 

tale, 
And  therefore  own,  I  would  have  kept  it  from  thee. 
That  crime,  if  such  it  was,  I  have  committed  : 
But  since  thou  know'st  it  all,  let  me  entreat  thee,  480 
For  her  sake,  and  thy  own,  O  !  do  not  hate 
This  wretched  captive  ;  but  remember  well, 
What  thou  hast  promised,  faithfully  perform. 
He,  whose  victorious  arm  hath  conquer'd  all. 
Now  yields  to  her,  and  is  a  slave  to  love.  485 

Dej.  'Tis  my  resolve  to  act  as  thou  advisest. 
I  '11  not  resist  the  gods,  nor  add  fresh  weight 
To  my  calamity  :  let  us  go  in. 
That  thou  mayst  bear  my  orders  to  Alcides, 
And,  with  them,  gifts,  in  kind  return  for  those        490 


TRACHIMiE. — ACT   II. 


221 


We  have  received  from  him.    Thou  must  not  hence 
With  empty  hand,  who  hither  brought'st  to  me 
Such  noble  presents,  and  so  fair  a  train,  [Exeunt, 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE   I. 

Thee,  Venus  !  gods  and  men  obey, 

And  universal  is  thy  sway,  495 

Need  I  recount  the  powers  subdued  by  love  ?  ^ 

Neptune,  who  shakes  the  solid  ground  ; 

The  king  of  Erebus  profound  ; 
Or  the  great  lord  of  all,  Saturnian  Jove  ? 

To  mortals  lei  the  song  descend,  500 

To  pity  our  afilicted  friend, 
And  soothe  the  injured  Dejanira's  woes  : 

For  her  the  angry  rivals  came 

For  her  they  felt  an  equal  flame, 
For  her,  behold  I  the  doubtful  battle  glows.  505 

ANTISTROPHE. 

In  dreadful  majesty  array'd, 

Afi"righting  sore  the  fearful  maid. 
Up  rose  the  horned  monarch  of  the  flood; 

He,  who  through  fair  ^Etolia's  plain 

Pours  his  rich  tribute  to  the  main  ;  510 

A  buITs  tremendous  form  belied  the  god. 

From  his  own  Thebes,  to  win  her  love, 

With  him  the  happier  son  of  Jove, 
The  great  Alcides,  came,  and  in  his  hand 

The  club,  the  bow,  and  glittering  spear;  515 

Whilst  Venus,  to  her  votaries  near, 
Waved  o'er  their  heads  her  all-diciding  wand. 

E  PODE. 

Warm,  and  more  warm  the  conflict  grows : 
Dire  was  the  noise  of  rattling  bows. 
Of  front  to  front  opposed,  and  hand  to  hand  :        520 


222 


SOPHOCLES. 


Deep  was  the  animated  strife 

For  love»  for  conquest,  and  for  life  ; 
Alternate  groans  re-echoed  through  the  land:  525 

Whilst  pensive,  on  the  distant  shore, 

She  heard  the  doubtful  battle  roar, 
Many  a  sad  tear  the  hapless  virgin  shed; 

Far  from  her  tender  mother's  arms, 

She  knows  not  yet  for  whom  her  charms 
She  keeps,  or  who  shall  share  her  bridal  bed.  [Exeunt. 

ACT  III. 

DEJANIRA,  CHORUS. 

Dej.  My  guest,  in  pity  to  the  captive  train,  630 

Laments  their  woes,  and  takes  his  kind  farewell: 

Meantime,  my  friends,  in  secret  came  I  here 

To  pour  forth  all  my  miseries,  and  impart 

To  you  my  inmost  thoughts,  my  last  resolve. 

Alas  !  within  these  walls  I  have  received,  235 

Like  the  poor  sailor,  an  unhappy  freight 

To  sink  me  down,  no  virgin,  but  a  wife. 

The  wife  of  my  Alcides  ;  his  loved  arm 

Now  must  embrace  us  both  :  my  faithful  lord 

(Faithful  and  good  I  thought  him)  thus  rewards      540 

My  tender  cares,  and  all  the  tedious  toils 

I  suffer'd  for  him ;  but  I  will  be  calm  ; 

For  'tis  an  evil  I  have  felt  before. 

And  yet  to  live  with  her !  with  her  to  share 

My  husband's  bed  !  what  woman  could  support  it  ?*545 

Her  youth  is  stealing  onward  to  its  prime, 

Whilst  mine  is  wither'd  ;  and  the  eye,  which  longs 

To  pluck  the  opening  flower,  from  the  dry  leaf 

Will  turn  aside,  her  younger  charms  :  I  fear. 

Have  conquered,  and  benceforth,  in  naiqe  alone      550' 


TRACHlNIiE— ACT  HI. 


223 


Shall  Dejanira  be  Alcides'  wife. 

Bat  ill  do  rage  and  violence  become 

The  prudent  matron  ;  therefore,  mark  me  well, 

And  hear>hat  I  have  purposed,  to  relieve 

My  troubled  heart.    Within  a  brazen  urn, 

Conceal'd  from  every  eye,  I  long  have  kept 

That  ancient  gift  which  Nessus  did  bequeathe  me. 

The  hoary  centaur,  who  was  wont  for  hire 

To  bear  the  traveller  o'er  the  rapid  flood 

Of  deep  Evenus :  not  with  oars  or  sail 

He  stemm'd  the  torrent,  but  with  nervous  arm 

Opposed,  and  pass'd  it :  me,  when,  first  a  bride, 

I  left  my  father's  hospitable  roof 

With  my  Alcides,  in  his  arras  he  bore 

Athwart  the  current ;  halfway  o'er,  he  dared 

To  ofi'er  violence  :  I  shriek'd  aloud  ; 

When,  lo !  the  son  of  Jove,  his  bow  swift  bent, 

Sent  forth  a  shaft,  and  pierced  the  monster's  breast. 

Who  with  his  dying  voice  did  thus  address  me  : — 

'  Daughter  of  CEneus,  listen  to  my  words. 

So  Shalt  thou  profit  by  the  last  sad  journey 

Which  I  shall  ever  go  :  if  in  thy  hand 

Thou  take  the  drops  out-flowing  from  the  wound 

This  arrow  made,  dipp'd  in  the  envenom'd  blood 

Of  the  Lernaean  hydra,  with  that  charm 

Mayst  thou  subdue  the  heart  of  thy  Alcides, 

Nor  shall  another  ever  gain  his  love.' 

Mindful  of  this  my  friends,  (for  from  that  hour 

In  secret  have  I  kept  the  precious  gift) 

Behold  a  garment  dipped  in  the  very  blood 

He  gave  me  ;  nor  did  I  forget  to  add 

What  he  enjoin'd,  but  have  prepared  it  all. 

I  know  no  evil  arts,  nor  would  I  learn  them  ; 

For  they  who  practise  such  are  hateful  to  me  : 

I  only  wish  the  charm  may  be  of  power 


555 


560 


565 


570 


575 


580 


585 


224 


SOPHOCLES. 


To  win  Alcides  from  this  virgin's  love, 
And  bring  hira  back  to  Dejanira's  arms, 
If  ye  shall  deem  it  lawful ;  bat  if  not, 
I  '11  go  no  farther. 

Cho.  Could  we  be  assured 

Such  indeed  is  the  effect,  'tis  well  determined.        690 

Dej.  I  cannot  but  believe  it;  though,  as  yet, 
Experience  never  hath  confirm'd  it  to  me. 

Cho.  Thou  shouldst  be  certain;  thou  but  seem'st  to 
know, 
If  thou  hast  never  tried. 

Dej.  I  'II  try  it  soon  ; 

For  see,  ev'n  now  he  comes  out  at  the  portal.  595 

Let  him  not  know  our  purpose  ;  if  the  deed 
Be  wrong,  concealment  may  prevent  reproach  : 
Therefore  be  silent. 

Enter  LicHAS. 

Li.  Speak  thy  last  commands. 

Daughter  of  OEneus,  for  already  long 
Have  we  delay'd  our  journey. 

Dej.  Know,  then,  Lichas,  600 

That  whilst  thou  communest  with  thy  friends,  myself 
Have  hither  brought  a  garment  which  I  wove 
For  my  Alcides  ;  thou  must  bear  it  to  him : 
Tell  him,  no  mortal  must  with  touch  profane 
Pollute  the  sacred  gift,  nor  sun  behold  it,  605 

Nor  holy  temple,  nor  domestic  hearth, 
Ere  at  the  altar  of  paternal  Jove 
Himself  shall  wear  it;  'twas  my  solemn  vow, 
Whene'er  he  should  return,  that,  clothed  in  this, 
He  to  the  gods  should  offer  sacrifice:  610 

Bear  too,  this  token :  he  will  know  it  well. 

611  This  token  was  a  seal-ring,  which  Dejanira  sent  with 
the  vest,  to  coavince  Hercules  that  it  came  from  her. 


TKACHINI*. — ACT   III. 


225 


Away  !  remember  to  perform  thy  office, 
But  go  no  farther ;  so  shall  double  praise, 
And  favor  from  us  both,  reward  thy  duty. 

Li.  If  1  have  aught  of  skill,  by  Hermes  right      615 
Instructed  in  his  art,  I  will  not  fail 
To  bear  thy  gift,  and  faithful  to  report 
What  thou  hast  said. 

Dej.  Begone  ;  what  here  hath  pass'd 

Thou  know'st. 

Li.  I  do ;  and  shall  bear  back  the  news 

That  all  is  well, 

Dej.  Thou  art  thyself  a  witness  620 

How  kindly  I  received  the  guest  he  sent  me. 

Li.  It  fill'd  my  heart  with  pleasure  to  behold  it. 

Dej.  What  canst  thou  tell  him  more  ?  Alas !  I  fear 
He  'II  know  too  well  the  love  I  bear  to  him : 
Would  1  could  be  as  certain  he  'd  return  it !  [Exeunt. 


CHORUS. 
STROPHE   I. 

You,  who  on  CEta's  craggy  summit  dwell;  626 

Or  from  the  rock,  whence  gushing  rivulets  flow, 

Bathe  in  the  warmer  springs  below ; 

You,  who,  near  the  Melian  bay, 
To  golden -shafted  Dian  hymn  the  lay,  630 

Now  haste  to  string  the  lyre,  and  tune  the  vocal  shell. 

ANTISTROPHE  I. 

No  mournful  theme  demands  your  pensive  strain  ; 
But  such  as,  kindled  by  the  sacred  fire. 
The  Muses  might  themselves  admire, 

615  Hermes  or  Mercury  always  appears  as  messenger  of 
the  gods  :  he  therefore  naturally  presided  over  mortal  mes- 
sengers, and  is  properly  mentioned  by  the  herald  as  his  patron 
and  instructor. 

62U  The  bay  of  Melis  was  not  far  from  Trachis,  and  adjoin- 
ing to  Artemisium :  near  it  was  a  temple  sacred  to  Diana. 
SOPH.  .  P 


226 


SOPHOCLES. 


TRACHINI/E. — ACT  IV. 


227 


G35 


A  loud  and  cheerful  song  ;  for  see, 
The  son  of  Jove  returns  with  victory. 
And  richest  spoils  reward  a  life  of  toil  and  pain. 

STROPHE    n. 

Far  from  his  native  land  he  took  his  way  : 

For  twelve  long  moons,  uncertain  of  his  fate, 

Did  we  lament  his  exiled  state,  o^" 

What  time  his  anxious  wife  deplored, 

With  never-ceasing  tears,  her  absent  lord  ; 

But  Mars  at  last  hath  closed  his  long,  laborious  day. 

ANTISTROPHE  H. 

Let  him  from  fair  Euboea's  isle  appear ; 

Let  winds  and  raging  seas  oppose  no  more,  t>4D 

But  waft  him  to  the  wish'd-for  shore. 

The  anointed  vest's  persuasive  charms 
Shall  bring  him  soon  to  Dejanira's  arms 
Soon  shall  we  see  the  great,  the  loved  Alcides  here. 

ACT   IV. 

DEJANIRA,     CHORUS. 

Dej.  Alas,  my  friends  !  I  fear  I  've  gone  too  far.   650 

Cho.  Great  queen !  in  what  ?  ,       ,       . 

j)gj  I  know  not  what ;  but  dread 

Something  to  come,  lest,  where  I  had  most  hope 
Of  happiness,  I  meet  with  bitterest  wo. 
Cho.  Meanest  thou  thy  gift  to  Hercules  ? 

Dej.  ^  *^^ ' 

Nor  would  I  henceforth  counsel  those  I  loved        665 
To  do  a  dark  and  desperate  deed  like  this. 

Uncertain  of  the  event. 

(^jjQ  How  was  it?    Speak, 

If  thou  canst  tell  us. 
Dej.  O  !  'twas  wonderful ; 


For  you  shall  hear  it :  know,  then,  the  white  wool 

Wherein  I  wrapp'd  the  anointed  vest,  untouched    660 

By  any  hand,  dropp'd  self-consumed  away. 

And  down  the  stone,  e'en  like  a  liquid,  flow'd 

Dissolving  :  but  'tis  fit  I  tell  you  all. 

Whate'er  the  wounded  centaur  did  enjoin  me. 

Mindful  to  practise,  sacred  as  the  laws  665 

On  brazen  tablets  graved,  I  have  performed. 

Far  from  the  fire,  and  from  the  sun's  warm  beams. 

He  bade  me  keep  the  charm  from  every  eye 

In  secret  bid,  till  time  should  call  on  me 

To  anoint  and  use  it;  this  was  done;  and  now,      670 

The  fleece  in  secret  pluck'd,  the  charm  prepared. 

Long  from  the  sun  within  a  chest  conceal'd. 

At  length  I  brought  it  forth,  and  sent  the  gift 

To  my  Alcides ;  when,  behold  !  a  wonder, 

Most  strange  for  tongue  to  tell,  or  heart  of  man      675 

Ev'n  to  conceive  !     Perchance  the  wool  I  cast 

Into  the  sunshine  :  soon  as  it  grew  warm, 

It  fell  to  dust,  consuming  all  away 

In  most  stranjfs  manner ;  then  from  the  earth  up  rose 

In  frothy  bubbles,  ev'n  as  from  the  grape,  680 

In  yellow  autumn,  flows  the  purple  wine. 

I  know  not  what  to  think  ;  but  much  I  fear 

I  've  done  a  horrid  deed  :  for,  why,  my  friends  ! 

Why  should  the  dying  savage  wish  to  serve 

His  murderer?    That  could  never  be  :  O  no  ;         686 

He  only  meant  by  flattery  to  destroy 

Me,  his  destroyer :  truth  is  come  too  late, 

And  I  alone  have  slain  my  dear  Alcides, 

I  know  that  by  his  arrows  Chiron  fell ; 

I  know,  whate'er  they  touch'd,  they  still  were  fatal ; 

689  Chiron  was  one  of  the  centaurs,  and  was  wounded  by 
Hercules  with  one  of  his  arrows  dipped  in  the  blood  of  the 
hydra. 


I 


92d 


SOPHOCLES. 


TRACHINI.^. — ACT   IV. 


229 


6d5 


That  very  poison  mingled  with  the  blood  691 

Of  dying  Nessus  ;  will  not  that  too  kill 

My  Hercules  P     It  must :  but  if  he  dies, 

My  resolution  is  to  perish  with  him. 

Those,  who  their  honor  and  their  virtue  prize, 

Can  never  live  with  infamy  and  shame. 

Cho.  'Tis  fit  we  tremble  at  a  deed  of  horror ; 
Bat  His  not  fitting,  ere  we  know  the  event, 
To  give  up  hope,  and  yield  us  to  despair. 

Dej.  There  is  no  hope  where  evil  counsel's  taken. 

Cho.  But  when  we  err  from  ignorance  alone,      701 
Small  is  the  crime,  and  slight  the  punishment: 
Such  is  thy  fault. 

Dej.  The  guiltless  may  talk  thus, 

Who  know  no  ill ;  not  those,  who  are  unhappy. 

Cho.  No  more,  unless  thou  mean'st  thy  son  should 
hear  thee,  705 

Who  now  returns  in  search  of  thy  Alcides. 
Behold  him  here. 

Enter  Hyllus. 

Hyl.  O  !  would  that  thou  wert  dead  ! 

Would  I  were  not  thy  son  !  or,  being  so, 
Would  I  could  change  thy  wicked  heart ! 

Dej.  Wy  so«^  • 

What  means  this  passion  ? 

Hyl.  Thou  hast  slain  thy  husband  ; 

This  very  day  my  father  hast  thou  slain.  711 

Dej.  Alas  !  my  child,  what  say'st  thou  ? 

Hyl.  What  is  past, 

And  therefore  must  be  :  who  can  e'er  undo 
The  deed  that 's  done? 

Dej.  But  who  could  say  I  did  it  ? 

Hyl.  I  saw  it  with  these  eyes  ;  I  heard  it  all      715 

From  his  own  lips. 

Dej,  Where  didst  thou  see  him  thenT 


720 


725 


730 


Tell  me,  O  !  quickly  tell  me. 

Hyl.  If  I  must. 

Observe  me  well :  when  Hercules,  return'd 
From  conquest,  had  laid  waste  the  noble  city 
Of  Eurytus,  with  fair  triumphal  spoils 
He  to  Euboea  came,  where,  o'er  the  sea. 
Which  beats  on  every  side,  Cenaeum's  top 
Hangs  dreadful :  tiiither  (to  paternal  Jove) 
His  new-raised  altars  in  the  leafy  wood 
He  came  to  visit ;  there  did  my  glad  eyes 
Behold  Alcides  first.     As  he  prepared 
The  frequent  victim,  from  the  palace  came 
Lichas  thy  messenger,  and  with  him  brought 
The  fatal  gift :  wrapp'd  in  the  deadly  garment, 
(For  such  was  thy  command)  twelve  oxen  then, 
Without  a  blemish,  firstlings  of  the  spoil, 
He  slew  ;  together  next  a  hundred  fell. 
The  mingled  fiock:  pleased  with  his  gaudy  vest, 
And  happy  in  it,  he  awhile  remain'd, 
Oflfering  with  joy  his  grateful  sacrifice  : 
But,  lo !  when  from  the  holy  victim  rose 
The  bloody  flame,  and  from  the  pitchy  wood 
Exhaled  its  moisture,  sudden  a  cold  sweat 
Bedew'd  his  limbs,  and  to  his  body  stuck 
(As  by  the  hand  of  some  artificer 
Close  join'd  to  every  part)  the  fatal  vest. 
Convulsion  rack'd  his  bones,  and  through  his  veins. 
Like  the  fell  serpent's  deadly  venom,  raged. 
Then  question'd  he  the  wretched,  guiltless  Lichas, 
By  what  detested  arts  he  had  procured 
The  poison'd  garb  :  he,  ignorant  of  all. 
Could  only  say  it  was  the  gift  he  brought 
From  Dejanira  :  when  Alcides  heard  it. 
Tortured  with  pain,  he  took  him  by  the  foot, 
And  hurl'd  him  headlong  on  a  pointed  rock 


735 


t 


740 


745 


750 


230 


SOPHOCLES. 


That  o'er  the  ocean  hung:  -  his  brains,  dash'd  forth, 

With  mingled  blood  flow'd  through  his  clotted  hair 

In  horrid  streams.     The  multitude,  with  shrieks, 

Lamented  loud  the  fury  of  Alcides, 

And  Lichas*  hapless  fate  ;  none  durst  oppose  755 

His  raging  frensy  :  prostrate  on  the  earth 

Now  would  he  lie  and  groan  ;  and  now,  uprising, 

Would  bellow  forth  his  griefs.     The  mountain  tops 

Of  Locris,  and  Euboea's  rocks,  return'd 

His  dreadful  cries:  then,  on  the  ground  outstretched. 

In  bitterest  wrath  he  cursed  the  nuptial  bed  761 

Of  CEneus,  and  his  execrations  pour'd 

On  thee,  his  worst  of  foes  :  at  length,  his  eyes. 

Distorted  forth  from  the  surrounding  smoke, 

He  cast  on  me,  who  midst  attending  crowds  765 

Wept  his  sad  fate.     *  Approach,'  he  cried,  'my  son! 

Do  not  forsake  thy  father  ;  rather  come. 

And  share  his  fate,  than  leave  me  here.'    O  !  haste, 

And  take  me  hence  ;  bear  me  w  here  never  eye 

Of  mortal  shall  behold  me.     O,  my  child  !  770 

Let  me  not  perish  here.'    Thus  spake  my  father, 

And  I  obey'd  :  distracted  with  his  pains, 

A  vessel  brings  him  to  this  place,  and  soon 

Living  or  dead  you  will  behold  him  here. 

This  have  thy  horrid  machinations  done 

For  thy  Alcides.     O  !  may  Justice  doom  thee 

To  righteous  punishment,  if  it  be  lawful 

For  me  to  call  down  vengeance  on  a  mother, 

As  sure  it  is,  on  one  who  hath  disclaimed 

All  piety  like  thee.     The  earth  sustains  not 

A  better  man  than  he  w  hom  thou  hast  murder'd, 

Nor  shalt  thou  e'er  behold  his  like  again. 

[jBvTiY  Dejanira. 
Cho.   Whence    this   abrupt   departure  ?      Know'st 
thou  not, 


775 


780 


TRACHINI^.— ACT   IV. 


231 


795 


To  o-o  in  silence  thus  confirms  thy  guilt  ? 

Hyl.  Let  her  be  gone:  and  may  some   prosperous 

gale 
Waft  her  far  off,  that  these  abhorring  eyes 
May  never  see  her  more  !     W  hat  boots  the  name 
Of  mother,  when  no  longer  she  performs 
A  mother's  duty  ?     Let  her  go  in  peace  ; 
And,  for  her  kindne:^s  to  my  father,  soon  7JU 

May  she  enjoy  the  blessings  she  bestow  d  ! 

CHORUS. 
STUOPHE   I. 

True  was  the  oracle  divine. 
Long  since  deliver'd  from  Dodona's  shrine. 

Which  said,  Alcides'  woes  should  last 

Till  twelve  revolving  years  were  past ; 
Then  should  his  labors  end  in  sweet  repose. 

Behold,  mv  friends  !  'tis  come  to  pass  ; 

'Tis  all  fulfiird  ;  for  who,  alas  ! 
In  peaceful  death,  or  toil  or  slavery  knows? 

ANTISTROPHE    I. 

If  deep  within  his  tortured  veins 
The  centaur's  cruel  poison  reigns. 
That  from  the  'jvdra's  baleful  breath 
Destructive  flow'd,  replete  with  death, 

On  him  another  sun  shall  never  rise  : 
The  venom  runs  through  every  part, 
And,  lo  !  to  Nessus'  direful  art 

Alcides  falls  a  helpless  sacrifice. 

STROPHE    II. 

Poor  Dejanira  long  deplored 
Her  waning  charms,  and  ever-faithless  lord  : 

At  length,  by  evil  counsel  sway'd, 

Her  passion»s  dictates  she  obey  d. 
Resolved  Alcides'  doubtful  truth  to  prove  ; 


800 


805 


810 


932 


SOPHOCLES. 


But  now,  alas  !  laments  his  fate 
In  ceaseless  woe,  and  finds  too  late 
A  dying  husband,  and  a  foreign  love.  815 

ANTISTIiOPHE   II. 

Another  death  must  soon  succeed, 

Another  victim  soon  shall  bleed  : 

Fatal,  Alcides  !  was  the  dart 

That  pierced  the  rival  monarch's  heart. 
And  brought  lole  from  her  native  land.  820 

From  Venus  did  our  sorrows  flow, 

The  secret  spring  of  all  our  wo ; 
For  naught  was  done  but  by  her  diead  command. 

[Exeunt. 

ACT    V. 

[-4  noise  within  the  palace. 

CHORUS. 

Or  I  *m  deceived,  or  did  I  hear  loud  shrieks 

Within  the  palace  :  'twas  the  voice  of  one  825 

In  anguish.     Doubtless,  some  calamity 

Hath  fallen  upon  us  now  :  what  can  it  be  ? 

But  see,  yon  matron,  with  contracted  brow 

And  unaccustom'd  sadness,  comes  to  tell 

The  dreadful  news. 

Enter  Nurse. 

Nurse.  What  woes,  my  hapless  daughters, 

Alcides*  fatal  gift  hath  brought  upon  us  !  831 

Cho.  What  dost  thou  tell  us  ? 

Nurse.  Dejanira  treads 

The  last  sad  path  of  mortals. 

Cho.  Is  she  gone  ? 

Nurse.  *Tis  so,  indeed. 

Cho.  What!  dead? 

Nurse.  Again  I  say, 


816  The  Chorus  here  foretels  the  death  of  Dejanira. 


TRACHINI^.— ACT   V. 


233 


She  is  no  more. 

Cho  Alas !  how  did  she  perish  ?  835 

Nurse.  Most  fearfully  :  'twas  dreadful  to  behold. 

Cho.    How  fell  she  then  ? 

Nurse.  I^y  her  own  hand. 

^^j^  But  wherefore  ? 

What  madness,  what  disorder?    What  could  move 

her 
To  perpetrate  so  terrible  a  deed. 

Thus  adding  death  to  death  ?  »*" 

Nurse.  'A'»>e  fatal  steel 

Destroy'd  her. 

Clio.  Didst  thou  see  it  ? 

Nurse.  I  v^  as  by. 

Close  by  her  side.  . 

Cho  How  was  it? 

Nurse.  Her  own  arm 

Struck  the  sad  blow. 

Cho.  Indeed? 

Nurse.  Most  veritably. 

Cho.  In  evil  hour  this  rival  virgin  came 
To  bring  destruction  here. 

^uj^sj,^  And  so  she  did  :  845 

Hadst  thou,  like  me,  been  v^itness  to  the  deed. 
Thou  wouldst  much  more  have  pitied  her. 

Cho.  .  ^^^«  • 

How  could  a  woman  do  it? 
j^uj^se  'Twas  most  dreadful, 

As  thou  Shalt  hear,  for  I  will  tell  thee  all. 

Soon  as  she  enter'd  at  the  palace  gate,  850 

And  saw  her  son  prepare  the  funeral  bed, 

To  the  inmost  chamber  silent  she  retired 

From  every  eye;  there,  at  the  altar's  feet 

Failing,  lamented  loud  her  widow'd  state ; 

And  ever  as  she  lit  on  aught  her  hands  855 

Had  used  in  happier  days,  the  tears  would  ^iow. 


234 


SOPHOCLES. 


860 


865 


870 


From  room  to  room  she  wander'd  ;  and,  if  chance 
A  loved  domestic  cross'd  her,  she  would  weep 
And  mourn  her  fate,  for  ever  now  deprived 
Of  converse  sweet,  and  hymeneal  joys  : 
Then  would  she  strew  lier  garment  on  the  bed 
Of  her  Alcides ;  for  conceal'd  I  watch'd 
Her  every  motion  ;  throw  herself  upon  it; 
And,  as  the  tears  in  a  warm  flood  burst  forth, 
*  Farewell !'  she  cried,  '  for  ever  farewell  now 
My  nuptial  couch  !  for  never  shalt  thou  more 
Receive  this  wretched  burden/    Thus  she  spake, 
And  with  quick  hand  the  golden  button  loosed; 
Then  cast  her  robe  aside,  her  bosom  bared. 
And  seem'd  prepared  to  strike.  I  ran,  and  told 
The  dreadful  purpose  to  her  son  ;  too  late 
We  came,  and  saw  her  wounded  to  the  heart. 
The  pious  son  beheld  his  bleeding  mother. 
And  wept;  for  well  he  knew,  by  anger  fired, 
And  the  fell  centaur's  cruel  fraud  betray'd, 
Unweeting  she  had  done  the  dreadful  deed. 
Close  to  her  side  he  laid  him  down,  and  join'd 
His  lips  to  hers,  lamenting  sore  that  thus 
He  had  accused  her  guiltless  ;  then  deplored 
His  own  sad  fate,  thus  suddenly  bereaved 
Of  both  his  parents  :  you  have  heard  my  tale. 
Who  to  himself  shall  promise  length  of  life? 
None  but  the  fool :  For,  O!  to-day  alone 
Is  ours ;  we  are  not  certain  of  to-morrow. 

Cho.  Which  shall  I  weep?  Which  most  our  hearts 
should  fill  885 

With  grief,  the  present  or  the  future  ill, 
The  dying  or  the  dead  ?  'Tis  equal  wo. 
To  fear  the  stroke,  or  fear  the  impending  blow. 

STROPHE. 

O  !  for  a  breeze  to  waft  us  o*er 

Propitious  to  some  distant  shore  !  890 


875 


880 


TRACHINl^. — ACT   V. 


235 


895 


900 


To  shield  our  souls  from  sore  affright, 

And  save  us  from  the  dreadful  sight ! 

That  sight  the  hardest  heart  would  move,— 

In  his  last  pangs  the  son  of  Jove  ; 
To  see  the  poison  run  through  every  vein. 
And  limbs  convulsed  with  agonising  pain. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Behold  the  attendant  train  is  nigh ; 

I  hear  the  voice  of  misery. 

Ev'n  as  the  plaintive  nightingale. 

That  warbles  sweet  her  mournful  tale : 

Silent  and  slow  they  lead  him  on. 

Hark  !  I  hear  Alcides  groan  ! 
Again  'tis  silence  all !  This  way  they  tread  : 
Or  sleeps  he  now,  or  rests  be  with  the  dead  ? 

Enter  Hkrcules,  Hyllus,  Attendants. 

HvL.  Alas,  my  father!  whither  shall  I  go?  905 

Wretch  that  I  am  !  O,  where  shall  I  betake  me? 
What  will  become  of  thy  afflicted  son? 

Att.  Speak  softly,  youth  !  do  not  awake  his  pains ; 
Refrain  thy  grief,  for  yet  Alcides  lives, 
Though  verging  to  the  tomb  :  be  calm.  910 

jjyl.  What  say'st  thou? 

Doth  he  yet  live  ? 

j^jj^  He  doth  ;  disturb  not  thus 

His  slumbers,  nor  provoke  the  dire  disease. 
Hyl.  Alas!  I  cannot  bear  to  see  him  thus. 

iHercules  awakes. 

Her.  O  Jove !  where  am  I,  and  with  whom  ?  What 

land 

Contains  the  wretched  Hercules,  oppress'd 

With  never-ending  woes?    Ah  me  !  again 

The  deadly  poison  racks  me. 

Att.  [to  Hyllus.]  Seest  thou  not, 


915 


236 


SOPHOCLES. 


TRACHINI^— ACT    V, 


237 


^Twere  better  far  to  have  remain'd  in  silence, 
And  not  awaked  liim  ? 

Hyl.  'Twas  impossible 

Unmoved  to  look  on  such  calamity  ;  920 

I  could  not  do  it. 

Her.  O  Cenaean  rocks. 

Where  smoke  the  sacred  altars  !     Is  it  thus, 
O  Jove  !  thou  dost  reward  my  piety  ? 
W  hat  dreadful  punishment  is  this  thy  hand 
Halh  laid  on  me,  who  never  could  deserve  925 

Such  bitter  wrath?     What  incantations  now, 
What  power  of  medicine,  can  assuage  my  pain, 
Unless  great  Jove  assisted  ?    Health  to  me 
Without  him,  were  a  miracle  indeed. 
Let  me,  O  !  let  me  rest ;  refuse  me  not  930 

A  little  slumber  :  why  will  ye  torment  me? 
Why  bend  me  forward  ?     O  !  'tis  worse  than  death. 
Had  you  not  waked  me,  I  had  been  at  peace. 
Again  it  rages  with  redoubled  force. 
Where  are  you  now,  ye  thankless  Grecians?  where. 
Whom  I  have  toil'd  to  serve  on  the  rough  main,    936 
And  through  the  pathless  wood  ?     Where  are  ye  now 
To  help  a  dying  wretch  ?     Will  no  kind  hand 
Stretch  forth  the  friendly  sword,  or  in  the  flame 
Consume  me  ?     None,  alas  !  will  cut  me  off  940 

From  hated  life. 

Att.  O  youth  !  assist  thy  father  ; 

It  is  beyond  my  strength  :  thy  quicker  sight 
May  be  more  useful. 

Hyl.  My  poor  aid  is  ready ; 

But  wheresoe'er  I  am,  'tis  not  in  me 
To  expel  the  subtile  poison  that  destroys  him  ;        945 
Such  is  the  will  of  Jove. 

Her.  My  son  !  my  son  ! 

Where  art  thou  ?    Bear  me  up  ;  assist  me  j  O  ! 


960 


Again  it  comes,  the  unconquerable  ill, 
The  dire  disease.     O  Pallas  !  aid  me  now  ; 
Draw  forth  thy  sword,  my  son!  strike,   strike  thy  fa- 
ther, ^         ^^^ 
And  heal  the  wound  thy  impious  mother  made. 

0  !  could  I  sec  her  like  njyself  destroyed, 

1  should  be  happy.     Brother  of  great  Jove  ! 
Sweet  Pluto  !  hear  me.  O  !     with  speedy  death 

Lay  me  to  rest,  and  bury  all  my  woes.  955 

Cho.  The  anguish  of  the  unhappy  mac,  my  friends  ! 
Ig  terrible  :  I  tremble  but  to  hear  him. 

Her.  What^ath  this  body  sufferM;!  O,  the  toils, 
The  labors  I  endured,  the  pangs  I  felt, 
Unutterable  woes  '.but  never  aught 
So  dreadful  as  this  sore  calamity 
Oppress'd  Alcides  :  not  the  wife  of  Jove, 
Nor  vile  Eurystheus  could  torment  me  thus, 
As,  a:neus  !  thy  deceitful  daughter  hath. 
O !  I  am  tangled  in  a  cruel  net 
Woven  by  the  Furies  ;  it  devours  my  flesh. 
Dries  up  my  veins,  and  drinks  the  vital  blood. 
My  body  's  wither'd,  and  I  cannot  break 
The  indissoluble  chain  :  nor  hostile  spear, 
Nor  earth-born  giants,  nor  the  savage  herd, 
The  wild  barbarian,  or  the  Grecian  host, 
Not  all  the  nations  I  have  journey'd  o*er, 
Could  do  a  deed  like  this  :  at  last  I  fall, 
Like  a  poor  coward,  by  a  w  Oman's  hand, 
Unarm'd  and  unassisted.     O  my  son ! 
Now  prove  thyself  the  offspring  of  Alcides, 
Nor  let  thy  reverence  of  a  mother's  name 
Surpass  thy  duty  to  an  injured  father. 
Go,  bring  her  hither,  give  her  to  my  wrath," 
That  I  may  see  whom  thou  wilt  most  lament. 
When  thou  behold'st  my  vengeance  fall  on  her. 


965 


970 


980 


238 


SOPHOCLES. 


085 


990 


f>05 


Fear  not,  my  son  !   but  go  ;  have  pity  on  me, 

Pity  thy  father :  all  must  pity  me, 

Whilst  they  behold,  ev'n  as  the  tender  maid, 

Alcides  weep,  who  never  wept  before. 

I  bore  ray  sorrows  all  without  a  groan  ; 

But  now  thou  seest  I  am  a  very  woman. 

Come  near,  my  child  !     O  !  think  what  I  endure, 

For  I  will  show  thee  :  look  on  this  poor  body  ; 

Let  all  behold  it.     What  a  sight  is  here  ! 

O  me  1  again  the  cruel  poison  tears 

My  entrails,  nor  aflbrds  a  moment's  case. 

O  !  take  me,  Pluto !  to  thy  gloomy  reign  ; 

Father  of  lightning  !  mighty  Jove  I  send  down 

Thy  bolt,  and  strike  me  now  !  Again  it  racks, 

It  tortures  me.     O  hands,  that  once  had  strength  ! 

And  you,  my  sinewy  arms  I    was  it  by  you 

The  terrible  Nemaean  lion  fell, 

The  dreadful  hydra,  and  the  lawless  race 

Of  centaurs  !  Did  this  wither'd  hand  subdue 

The  Erymanthian  boar,  wide-wasting  plague  ! 

And  from  the  shades  of  Orcus  drag  lo  light 

The  triple-headed  monster  ?     By  this  arm 

Did  the  fierce  guardian  of  the  golden  fruit 

In  Libya's  deserts  fall  ?    Unnumber'd  toils 

Have  I  endured  of  old,  and  never  yet 

Did  mortal  bear  a  trophy  from  Alcides  : 

But  nerveless  now  this  arm  :  see,  from  the  bone 

Darts  the  loose  flesh  :  I  waste  beneath  the  power 

Of  this  dark  pestilence.    O  Hercules  !  1010 

Why  boast  thy  mother  sprung  of  noblest  race, 

And  vainly  call  thyself  the  son  of  Jove  ? 

998  Nemsea  was  a  wood  near  Argia  in  Peloponnesus,  where 
Hercules  slew  a  lion  of  prodigious  size  aud  fierceness. 

1001  Erymanthus  was  a  mountain  of  Arcadia,  where  iier- 
cules  slew  a  wild  boar  that  infested  that  country. 


1000 


1006 


TRACHINIiE.--ACT  V. 


239 


But  mark  me  well;  this  creeping  shadow  still, 
Poor  as  it  is,  shall  yet  revenge  itself 
On  her  who  did  the  execrable  deed.  101& 

Would  she  were  hereto  feel. my  wrath;  to  know 
And  teach  mankind  that.Hercules,  though  dead, 
As  whilst  he  lived,  can  scourge  the  guilty  still ! 
Cho.  Unhappy  Greece !  how  wilt  thou  mourn  the 

loss 
Ofsuchaman! 

Hyl.  Permit  me  but  to  speak,  lOiU 

Distemper'd  as  thou  art,  my  father  I  hear  me  : 
Naught  shall  I  ask  unfit  for  thee  to  grant. 
Be  calm,  and  listen  to  me  ;  yet  thou  know'st  not 
How  groundless  thy  complaints,  and  what  new  joy 

Awaits  thee  still. 

Her.  Be  brief  then,  and  inform  me  :  1025 

My  pains  afllict  me  so,  I  cannot  guess 
Thy  subtile  purpose. 

Hyl.  'Twas  to  speak  of  her. 

My  mother;  'twas  to  tell  thee  of  her  state. 
And  how  unweeting  she  ofTended  thee. 

Her   Thou  worst  of  children  !  wouldst  thou  then 

AC     A  1030 

defend 

The  murder  of  thy  father?  darest  thou  thus 
Recall  the  sad  remembrance  of  her  crime  ? 

Hyl.  It    must  not    be    conceal'd :    I    know    too 
well, 
I  can  no  longer  hide  it. 

Heji,  What?  Her  guilt? 

'Tis  known  already. 

Hyl  Thou  'It  not  always  think  so.  lOoo 

Her!  Speak  then,  but  take  good  heed  thou  show 
thyself 

Worthy  tby  father.  ,     -    ^    a 

jjyl.  Know  then, she  is  dead. 


240 


SOPHOCLES. 


Her.  O,  dreadful  !  murder'd  ?     By  what  hand  ? 
TT^j^  Her  own. 

Her.  Would  she  had  fallen  by  mine  ! 

uyl  ^'^^'  ™y  ^^^^^"^ ' 

Didst  thou  know  all,  thy  anger  would  be  changed  1040 

To  pity  for  her.  . 

Her.  That  were  strange  indeed  : 

Why  dost  thou  think  so  ?  ,  „ 

Uyl.  She  did  mean  thee  well, 

But  err'd  unknowing. 
£jER.  Meant  she  well  to  slay 

Thy  father  ? 

Hyl.  Thy  new  marriage  was  the  cause  : 

She  had  prepared  a  philtre  for  thy  love,  1045 

And  knew  not  'twas  a  poison. 

Her.  »"*  ^^y'  ^^^ 

So  skill'd  in  magic  arts  at  Trachis  here 

Could  give  her  this  ? 

jjyl.  The  savage  centaur  Neasus, 

Who  did  persuade  her  'twould  restore  thy  love 

Given  to  another  wife. 

jjer.  Undone  Alcides  I 

I  die,  my  child  !  there  is  no  life  for  me. 
Alas  !  I  see  it  now  :  I  see  my  woes  : 
Hyllus,  away  ;  thy  father  is  no  more  : 
Be-one,  and  call  thy  brothers ;  call  Alcmena. 
The  wife,  alas  !  in  vain,  the  wife  of  Jove  : 
Go  bring  them  here,  that  with  my  latest  breath 
I  may  declare  my  fate,  long  since  foretold 

By  oracles  divine. 
jjyl.  Alcmena  's  gone 

To  Tirynth  ;  with  many  of  thy  sons 

Remain  :  some  dwell  at  Thebes  ;  the  rest  are  here, 

1059  Tirynth  or  Tirynthia  was  a  city  in   the  neighborhood 
of  Argos. 


1050 


1055 


TRACIlIMiE. — ACT   V. 


241 


And  wait  with  me  to  hear  and  to  obey  thee.  1061 

Her.  Then  listen  to  me,  for  the  time  is  come 
When  thou  must  prove  thyself  indeed  my  son. 
Know,  Jove,  my  heavenly  sire,  long  since  foretold 
I  was  not  born  to  perish  by  the  hand  1065 

Of  living  man,  but  from  some  habitant 
Of  Pluto's  dark  abode  should  meet  my  fate. 
The  centaur  Nessus,  (so  was  it  fulfill'd,) 
Though  dead,  destroy'd  me  :  but  I  'Jl  tell  thee  more : 
New  oracles  confirm'd  the  old  :  for  know,  1070 

When  to  the  Selli's  sacred  grove  I  came, 
(The  wandering  priests,  who  o'er  the  mountains  roam. 
And  rest  their  wearied  limbs  on  the  cold  ground) 
An  ancient  oak  prophetic  did  declare, 
That  if  I  lived  to  this  decisive  hour,  1075 

Here  all  my  labors,  all  my  toils  should  end. 
I  thought  it  told  me  I  should  live  in  peace  ; 
Alas  !  it  only  meant  that  I  must  die  ; 
For  death  will  put  an  end  to  every  care. 
Since  thus  it  is,  my  son,  thou  too  must  join  1080 

To  ease  Alcides  :  let  me  not  reproach  thee ; 
But  yield  thy  willing  aid,  nor  e'er  forget 
The  best  of  laws,  obedience  to  a  father. 

Hyl.  Thy  words  affright  me  ;  but  declare  thy  pur- 
pose : 
Behold  me  ready  to  perform  thy  orders,  1085 

Whate'er  they  be. 

Her.  First  give  me  then  thy  hand. 

Hyl.  But  why  this  pledge,  and  wherefore  anxious 
thus 
Dost  thou  require  it? 

Her.  Wilt  thou  give  it  me, 

Or  dost  refuse? 

Hyl.  There,  take  it ;  I  obey.  1090 

Her.  First  swear  then  by  the  head  of  Jove,  my  sire. 

SOPH.  Q 


242 


SOPHOCLES. 


1100 


HvL.  I  will ;  but  whay^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^^  ^.,^  ^^^^^^^ 

All  I  CDJoin  thee.  , 

Hyl.  Bear  me  witness,  Jove ! 

T  SWCeLF 

Her.'       And  imprecate  the  wrath  divine, 
If  thou'perform'st  it  not. 

jjyl  I  shall  not  fail ; 

But,  if  I  do,  may  vengeance  swift  overtake  me  !    1095 

Her.  Th^u  know'st  the  top  of  (Eta's  sacred  hill  ? 

Hyl.  I  know  it  well,  and  many  a  sacntice 

Have  offer'd  there.  ,      .     j    i     « 

H^R  That  is  the  destined  place. 

Where  thou,  assisted  by  thy  chosen  friends. 
My  son  !  must  bear  the  body  of  Alcides  ; 
There  shalt  thou  cut  thee  many  a  leafy  branch 
From  the  wild  olive  and  deep-rooted  oak  ; 
Then  cast  me  on  it,  take  thy  torch,  and  light 
My  funeral  pile.    Without  one  tear  or  groan 
Unmanly  do  it,  if  thou  art  my  son  : 
For  if  thou  fail'st,  remember,  after  death, 
A  father's  curses  will  sit  heavy  on  thee. 

Hyl   Alas,  my  father !  what  hast  thou  commanded  ? 
What  hast  thou  bade  me  do  1    ^^^^  ^^^^  ^^  ^^^^^ 

HeJ^*  «^t         1  1110 

Or  thou  art  not  the  son  of  Hercules.  « J^^ 

Hyl.  a  dreadful  deed  !     And  must  I  then  become 
A  parricide,  and  murder  thee  ? 

My  kind  physician,  balm  of  all  my  woes. 

Hyl.  Myself  to  cast  thee  in  the  flames  ?    Is  that 

An  office  fit  for  me  ?  ,   ^ 

jI^R  If  that  alone  i*i-' 

Seem  dreadful  to  thee,  yet  perform  the  rest. 

Hyl    I  '11  bear  thee  thither. 

fj^*^-  ^  Wilt  thou  raise  the  pile  ? 

HER* 


1106 


TRACHINIiE.— ACT  V. 


243 


Hyl.  I  will  do  anything  but  be  myself 
The  executioner. 

Her,  'Tis  well,  my  son  ! 

But  one  thing  more,  and  I  am  satisfied ;  1120 

'Tis  but  a  little. 

Hyl.  Be  it  e*er  so  great, 

I  shall  obey. 

Her.  Thou  know'st  the  virgin  daughter 

Of  Eurytus. 

Hyl.  lole  ? 

Her.  Her,  my  son  ! 

Remember,  'tis  a  father's  last  command, 
And  thou  hast  sworn  obedience  ;  that  lole  1125 

1  do  bequeathe  thee  :  take  her  to  thy  arms, 
When  I  am  dead,  and  let  her  be  thy  wife  : 
It  is  not  fitting  she,  who  lay  by  the  side 
Of  Hercules,  to  any  but  the  son 

Of  Hercules  should  e'er  descend  :  to  thee  1130 

Alone  I  yield  her.    Speak  not,  but  obey  me  : 
After  thy  kind  compliance,  to  refuse 
So  slight  a  favor  were  to  cancel  all. 

Hyl.  Alas  !  distemper'd  as  he  is,  to  chide  him  [aside 
Were  most  unkind  ;  and  yet,  what  madness  this  !  1135 

Her.  Thou  wilt  not  do  it  then  ? 

Hyl.  What !  marry  her 

Who  slew  my  mother?     Her,  who  hath  brought  thee 
To  this  sad  state  ?  It  were  an  act  of  frensy  : 
Death  be  my  portion,  rather  than  to  live 
With  those  I  hate. 

Her.  [turning  to  the  Chorus.]  He  will  not  pay  me 


then 

The  duty  which  he  owes  a  dying  father : 
But  if  thou  dost  not,  curses  from  the  gods 
Await  thee. 


1140 


Hyl. 


O  !  thou  ravest :  it  is  the  rage 


244  SOPHOCLES. 

Of  thy  distemper  makes  thee  talk  so  wildly. 
Hek.  Thou  hast  awaken'd  all  my  woes  ;  again  1 145 

Thev  torture  now. 

jjyl.  Alas  !  what  doubts  arise, 

What  fears  perplex  me  !  ,       .     •,•       * 

"  I     f  Mean'st  thou  to  dispute 

HER. 

A  father's  will  ? 
jIyl.  Must  I  then  learn  of  thee 

To  do  a  wicked  deed  ? 

jjgj^  It  is  not  wicked, 

If  I  request  it  of  thee. 

Hyl  Is  it  just?  ^^^^ 

Her.'  It  is  ;  the  gods  are  witnesses  'tis  just^ 

Hyl.    Then   by    those   gods   I  swear   I   will   per- 

form  ,      ,        , , 

What  thou  coramand'st :  I  never  can  be  deem  d 
Or  base  or  impious  for  obeying  thee.  kj^dness 

Her.   'Tis   well,   my    son!    one    added    ^'^^^'^g 
more, 
And  I  am  satisfied  ;  before  the  racks 
Of  dire  convulsion,  and  the  pangs  of  madness 
Asain  attack  me,  throw  me  on  the  pile. 
Haste  then,  and  bear  me  to  it  ;  there  at  last 
I  shaU  hav;  peace,  and  rest  from  all  my  sorrows    IICO 

Hyl    Since  'tis  thy  will,  my  father  !  we  submit. 

Her  Now,  ere  the  dreadful  malady  return, 
Be  firm,  my  soul !  ev'n  as  the  hardened  steel ; 
Suspend  thy  cries,  and  meet  the  fatal  blow  1164 

W  th  joy  and  pleasure.     Bear  me  hence   my  fnemls  ! 

For  you  have  shown  yourselves  my  friends  indeed. 

And  proved  the  base  ingratitude  of  those 

From  whom  I  sprang,  the  cruel  gods,  who  saw 

Unmoved  the  woes  of  their  unhappy  son. 

*Tis  not  in  mortal  to  foresee  his  fate  ;  »  "  J 

Mine  is  to  them  disgraceful,  and  to  me 


TRACHINIiE. — ACT  \. 


246 


Most  terrible;  to  me,  of  all  mankind 

The  most  distressed,  the  poor,  the  lost  Alcides. 

Cho.  lole,  come  not  forth,  unhappy  virgin ! 
Already  hast  thou  seen  enough  of  wo,  117o 

And  yet  fresh  sorrows  wait  thee  ;  but  remember. 
All  is  decreed,  and  all  the  work  of  Jove. 

1174  lole,  we  may  suppose,  is  coming  ««/«  ^^fS^'^™^/ 
to  know  th<3fate  of  Hercules;  but  is  stopped  by  the  Chorus. 
Ind  n?rvented  from  being  a  witness  of  the  melancholy  scene. 
HercTs  L  led  ou^  Hyllus.  who  had  promised  to  accom- 
pany  him  to  Mount  (Eta,  where  he  expired. 


CED 


IPUS    TYRANNUS, 


CEDIPUS    TYRANNUS. 


DRAMATIS  PERSON.^. 

CEdipus,  king  of  Thebes. 
JocASTA,  wife  of  CEdipus. 
Creon,  brother  to  Jocasta. 
TiREsiAS,  a  blind  prophet  of  Thebes. 
A  Shepherd  from  Corinth. 
A  Messenger. 

An  Old  Shepherd,  formerly  belonging  to  Laius. 
High  Priest  of  Jupiter. 

Chorus,  composed  of  the  priests  and  ancient  men  of  Thebes, 
Theban  youths,  children  of  CEdipus,  attendants,  &c. 


ARGUMENT. 


Laics,   king   of  Thebes,  having  learned  from  the  oracle  of 
ApoUo  that  he  was  destined  to  perish  by  the  hand  of  his 
son,  commanded  his  wife  Jocasta  to  destroy  her  mfant  as 
soon  as  it  came  into  the  world.     The  mother  accordingly 
gave  the  child  to  a  domestic,  with  orders  to  expose  him  on 
Mount  Cithseron,  where  he  was  found  by  one  of  the  shep- 
herds  of  Polybus,  king  of  Corinth ;    who,  having  no  chU- 
dren,  determined,  by  the  advice  of  his  queen,  to  keep  the 
boy  in  ignorance  of  the  circumstances  of  his  birth,  and  edu- 
cate him  as  his  own  son.     When  CEdipus  had  arrived  at 
years  of  maturity,  he  went  to  consult  the  oracle,  which  ter- 
rified him  with  the  intelligence  that  he  would  commit  par- 
ricide  and  incest.    He  now  therefore  resolved  to  return  to 
Corinth  no  more  ;  ana  travelling  towards  Phocis,  met  l^ius. 
and,  in    a    dispute  which  ensued,  slew  him.    As  a.dipus 
was  ignorant  of  the  rank  and  quality  of  the  man  whom  he 
had  killed,  he  was  attracted  to  Thebes  by  the  report  of  the 
sphinx;  the  overthrow  of  which  monster  raised  him  to  the 
throne,  while  the  prophecy  was  completed  by  his  nuptials 
with  the  widow  of  Laius,  by  whom  he  had  four  children. 
The  Theban  territories  were  at  length  desolated  by  a  plague, 
which  the  oracle  declared  should  cease  when  the  murderer 
of  Laius  was  banished  from  Boeotia.    After  a  mmute  inves- 
tigation,  the  dreadful  secret  was  at  length  divulged;    and 
Jocasta  put  a  period  to  her  existence.  whUe  CEdipus  de- 
prived himself  of  sight,  and  was,  at  his  own   request,  ba- 
nished from  Thebes  by  the  order  of  Creon,  the  brother  of 
Jocasta,  who  then  assumed  the  reins  of  government. 


fs    ; 


250 


SOPHOCLES. 


CEDIPUS   TYRANNUS.— ACT   I. 


251 


ACT   I. 

Scene,  Thebes  before  the  palace  of  CEdipus. 

CEDIPUS,    HIGH   PRIEST  OF  JUPITER. 

CEdi.  O  my  loved  sons  !  the  youthful  progeny 
Of  ancient  Cadmus  !  wherefore  sit  you  here, 
And  suppliant  thus,  with  sacred  boughs  adorn'd, 
Crowd  to  our  altars  ?    Frequent  sacrifice, 
And  prayers,  and  sighs,  and  sorrows  fill  the  land.      5 
I  could  have  sent  to  learn  the  fatal  cause  : 
But  see,  your  anxious  sovereign  comes  himself 
To  know  it  all  from  you  :  behold  your  king, 
Renowned  CEdipus.     Do  thou,  old  man  ! 
(For  best  that  office  suits  thy  years)  inform  me  10 

Why  you  are  come.     Is  it  the  present  ill 
That  calls  you  here,  or  dread  of  future  wo  ? 
Hard  were  indeed  the  heart  that  did  not  feel 
For  grief  like  yours,  and  pity  such  distress. 
If  there  be  aught  that  GEdipus  can  do  15 

To  serve  his  people,  know  me  for  your  friend. 
Priest.  O  king !   thou  seest  what  numbers  throne 
thy  altars. 
Here,  bending  sad  beneath  the  weight  of  years. 
The  hoary  priests  here  crowd  the  chosen  youth' 
Of  Thebes,  with  these  a  weak  and  suppliant  train    20 
Uf  helpless  infants  :  last,  in  me  behold 
The  minister  of  Jove  :  far  off  thou  seest 
Assembled  multitudes,  with  laurel  crown'd. 
To  where  Minerva's  hallowM  temples  rise  ' 

DeiDi?t1!?on;,nl^';ol  *^  iJ^'  ^°*"«  *"^  lamentations  of  his 
people  thronging  to  the  alter,  comes  out  of  his  nalace  to  in- 

V^TeJ^'JT',  °'  '""'K  ^*^'^«»-     ««  ^iVhlrsub'e  te 
the   progeny  of   Cadmus,    who   was   the  founder  of  Thebes 
about  two   hundred  years  before  his  time.  ' 


30 


Frequent  repair,  or  where  Isroenus  laves        ^  25 

Apollo's  sacred  shrine.    Too  well  thou  know*st, 

Thy  wretched  Thebes,  with  dreadful  storms  oppressed. 

Scarce  lifts  her  head  above  the  whelming  flood  : 

The  teeming  earth  her  blasted  harvest  mourns. 

And  on  the  barren  plain  the  flocks  and  herds 

Unnumber'd  perish  ;  dire  abortion  thwarts 

The  mother's  hopes,  and  painful  she  brings  forth 

The  half-form'd  infant ;  baleful  pestilence 

Hath  laid  our  city  waste  ;  the  fiery  god 

Stalks  o'er  deserted  Thebes;  whilst,  with  our  groans 

Enrich'd,  the  gloomy  god  of  Erebus  35 

Triumphant  smiles.     O  CEdipus  !  to  thee 

We  bend  :  behold  these  youths  ;  with  me  they  kneel, 

And  suppliant  at  thy  altars  sue  for  aid. 

To  thee,  the  first  of  men,  and  only  less  40 

Than  they,  whose  favor  thou  alone  canst  gain. 

The  gods  above  •.  thy  wisdom  yet  may  heal 

The  deep-felt  wounds,  and  make  the  powers  divine 

Propitious  to  us.     Thebes  long  since  to  thee 

Her  safety  owed,  when,  from  the  sphinx  deliver'd,  45 

Thy  grateful  people  saw  thee,  not  by  man 

Bnt  by  the  gods  instructed,  save  the  land. 

Now  then,  thou  best  of  kings  1  assist  us  now  : 

O  !  by  some  mortal  or  immortal  aid 

Now  succor  the  distress'd  !  On  wisdom  oft  50 

And  prudent  counsels,  in  the  hour  of  ill, 

45  The  sphinx,  according  to  poetical  history,  was  a  mon- 
ster, with  the  face  of  a  woman,  wings  of  a  bird,  body  of  a 
dog,  and  claws  like  a  lion :  she  dwelt  near  Thebes,  and  every 
day  destroyed  many  people.  The  oracle  declared  that  she 
could  never  be  conquered  till  some  one  was  found  that  could 
expound  a  certain  riddle  which  she  proposed.  After  many 
unsuccessful  attempts,  CEdipus  came,  and  explained  it ;  the 
sphinx  was  destroyed,  the  nation  was  delivered,  and  (Edipus  re- 
warded for  it  with  the  kingdom  of  Thebes. 


i 


m 


i 


265i 


SOPttOCLfeS. 


(EDIPUS    TYRANNUS.— ACT  I. 


Success  awaits.    O  dearest  prince  !  support, 

Relieve  thy  Thebes ;  on  thee,  its  saviour  once, 

Again  it  calls :  now,  if  thou  wouldst  not  see 

The  memory  perish  of  thy  former  deeds,  65 

Let  it  not  call  in  vain  ;  but  rise,  and  save. 

With  happiest  omens  once,  and  fair  success. 

We  saw  thee  crown'd :  O !  be  thyself  again, 

And  may  thy  will  and  fortune  be  the  same ! 

If  thou  art  yet  to  reign,  O  king  !  remember^  60 

A  sovereign's  riches  is  a  peopled  realm ; 

For  what  will  ships  or  lofty  towers  avail, 

UnarmM  with  men  to  guard  and  to  defend  them  ? 

(Edi.  O  my  unhappy  sons  !  too  well  I  know 
Your  sad  estate  ;  1  know  the  woes  of  Thebes  :         65 
And  yet  amongst  you  lives  not  such  a  wretch 
As  (Edipus;  for,  O!  on  me,  my  children  ! 
Your  sorrows  press.     Alas  !  I  feel  for  you, 
My  people,  for  myself,  for  Thebes,  for  all. 
Think  not  I  slept  regardless  of  your  ills  ;  ?0 

0  no;  with  many  a  tear  I  wept  your  fate, 
And  oft  in  meditation  deep  revolved 
How  best  your  peace  and  safety  to  restore. 
The  only  medicine  that  my  thoughts  could  find 

1  have  administer'd :  Menoeceus'  son,  75 
The  noble  Creon,  went  by  my  command 

To  Delphi,  from  Apollo's  shrine  to  know 
What  must  be  done  to  save  this  wretched  land. 
'Tis  time  he  were  return*d  ;  I  wonder  much 
At  his  delay  :  if,  when  he  comes,  your  king  80 

Perform  not  all  the  god  enjoins,  then  say 
He  is  the  worst  of  men. 
:    Priest.  O  king  !  thy  words 

Are  gracious ;  and,  if  right  these  youths  inform  me, 
Creon  is  here. 
CEdi.  O  Phoebus!  grant  he  come 


^ 


253 

85 


90 


With  tidings  cheerful  as  the  smile  he  wears ! 

Priest.  He  is  the  messenger  of  good;  for  see, 
His  brows  are  crown'd  with  laurel. 

(Edi.  We  shall  soon 

Be  satisfied  :  he  comes. 

Enter  Creon,  Chorus. 

My  dearest  Creon ! 
O  !  say,  what  answer  bear'st  thou  from  the  god  ; 
Or  good,  or  ill  ? 

Cre.  Good,  very  good  ;  for,  know. 
The  worst  of  ills,  if  rightly  used,  may  prove 
The  means  of  happiness. 

CEdi.  What  says  my  friend  P 

This  answer  gives  me  naught  to  hope  or  fear. 

Cre.  Shall  we  retire,  or  would  you  that  I  speak 

In  public  here  P 
(Edi.  Before  them  all  declare  it : 

Their  woes  sit  heavier  on  me  than  my  own. 

Cre.  Then  mark  what  I  have  heard  :  the  god  com- 
mands 
That  instant  we  drive  forth  the  fatal  cause 
Of  this  dire  pestilence,  nor  nourish  here 
The  accursed  monster. 

(Edi.  WhoP  what  monster  P  how  100 

Remove  it  P 

Cre.  Or  by  banishment,  or  death  : 

Life  must  be  given  for  life ;  for  yet  his  blood 

Rests  on  the  city. 

(Edi.  Whose  P  what  means  the  god  ? 

Cre.  O  king!  before  thee  Laius  ruled  o'er  Thebes. 

(Edi.  I  know  he  did,  though  I  did  ne'er  behold  him. 

Cre.  Laius  was  slain,  and  on  his  murderers         106 
rSo  Phoebus  says)  we  must  have  vengeance. 

(Edi.  W^^*^^' 


95 


264 


SOPHOCLES. 


(EDIPUS   TYRANNUS.— ACT   I. 


255 


Where  are  the  murderers  ?  who  shall  trace  the  guilt 
Buried  so  long  in  silence? 

Cre.  Here,  he  said, 

Ev*n  in  this  land  :  what's  sought  for  may  be  found ; 
But  truth,  unsearch'd  for,  seldom  comes  to  light.      Ill 

CEdi.     How   did  he   fall,   and   where?    at    home, 
abroad  ? 
Died  he  at  Thebes,  or  in  a  foreign  land? 

Cre.  He  left  his  palace.  Fame  reports,  to  seek 
Some  oracle  ;  since  that,  we  ne'er  beheld  him.         115 

CEdi.  But  did  no  messenger  return  ?     Not  one 
Of  all  his  train,  of  whom  we  might  inquire 
Touching  this  murder? 

Cre.  One,  and  one  alone, 

Came  back,  who,  flying,  'scaped  the  general  slaugh- 
ter ; 
But  nothing,  save  one  little  circumstance,  120 

Or  knew,  or  e'er  related. 

CEdi.  What  was  that  ? 

Much  may  be  learn'd  from  that :  a  little  dawn 
Of  light  appearing,  may  discover  all. 

Cre.  Laius,  atlack'd  by  robbers,  and  oppressed 
By  number,  fell ;  such  is  his  tale. 

CEdi.  Would  they,—     125 

Would  robbers  do  so  desperate  a  deed, 
Unbribed  and  unassisted  ? 

Cre.  So  indeed 

Suspicion  whisper'd  then  ;  but,  Laius  dead, 
No  friend  was  found  to  vindicate  the  wrong. 

CEdi.   But  what  strange  cause  could  stop  inquiry 
thus 
Into  the  murder  of  a  king  ? 

Cre.  The  sphinx :  131 

Her  dire  enigma  kept  our  thought  intent 
On  present  ills,  nor  gave  us  time  to  search 


The  past  mysterious  deed. 

CEdi.  Myself  will  try 

Soon  to  unveil  it :  thou,  Apollo !  well,  135 

And  well  hast  thou,  my  Creon  !  lent  thy  aid  ; 
Your  CEdipus  shall  now  perform  his  part : 
Yes,  I  will  fight  for  Phoebus  and  ray  country. 
And  so  I  ought ;  for  not  to  friends  alone 
Or  kindred  owe  I  this,  but  to  myself.  140 

Who  murdered  him  perchance  would  murder  me  ; 
His  cause  is  mine  :  wherefore,  my  children  !  rise, 
Take  hence  your  suppliant  boughs,  and  summon  here 
The  race  of  Cadmus,  my  assembled  people. 
Naught  shall  be  left  untried  :  Apollo  leads,  145 

And  we  will  rise  to  joy,  or  sink  for  ever. 

Priest.  Haste  then,  my  sons!  for  this  we  hither  came; 
About  it  quick  ;  and  may  the  god,  who  sent 
This  oracle,  protect,  defend,  and  save  us  !       [Exeunt, 


P 


CHORUS. 
STROPHE  I, 

O,  thou  great  oracle  divine  ! 

Who  didst  to  happy  Thebes  remove. 
From  Delphi's  golden  shrine,  ' 

And  in  sweet  sounds  declare  the  will  of  Jove  ; 
Daughter  of  hope !  O  !  soothe  my  soul  to  rest, 
And  calm  the  rising  tumult  in  my  breast. 

Look  down,  O  Phoebus  !  on  thy  loved  abode  ; 
Speak,  for  thou  know'st  the  dark  decrees  of  fate, 
Our  present  and  our  future  state. 

O  Delian  I  be  thou  still  our  healing  god  ! 

ANTISTROPHE   I. 

Minerva  !  first  on  thee  I  call. 
Daughter  of  Jove,  immortal  maid  ; 

Low  beneath  thy  feet  we  fall : 
O  !  bring  thy  sister  Dian  to  our  aid. 


150 


155 


160 


256 


SOPHOCLES. 


(EDIPUS   TYRANNUS. — ACT  II. 


267 


Goddess  of  Thebes !  from  thy  imperial  throne 
Look  with  an  eye  of  gentle  pity  down  ;  166 

And  thou,  far-shootinj?  Phoebus!  once  the  friend 
Of  this  unhappy,  this  devoted  land  ; 
O  !  now,  if  ever,  let  thy  hand 
Once  more  be  stretch'd  to  save  and  to  defend. 

STROPHE   II. 

Great  Thebes,  my  sons !  is  now  no  more  ;  170 

She  falls,  and  ne'er  again  shall  rise  ; 
Naught  can  her  health  or  strength  restore : 

The  mighty  nation  sinks,  she  droops,  she  dies. 
Stripp'd  of  her  fruits  behold  the  barren  earth ; 
The  half-form*d  infant  struggles  for  a  birth  ;  176 

The  mother  sinks,  unequal  to  her  pain  : 
Whilst,  quick  as  birds  in  airy  circles  fly. 
Or  lightnings  from  an  angry  sky. 

Crowds  press  on  crowds  to  Pluto's  dark  domain. 

ANTISTROI'HE   II. 

Behold,  what  heaps  of  wretches  slain,  180 

Unburied,  unlamented  lie  ; 
Nor  parents  now  nor  friends  remain 

To  grace  their  deaths  with  pious  obsequy  ; 
The  aged  matron  and  the  blooming  wife, 
Clung  to  the  altars,  sue  for  added  life.  186 

With  sighs  and  groans  united.  Paean's  rise  ; 
Re-echoed  still  doth  great  Apollo's  name 
Their  sorrows  and  their  wants  proclaim  ; 

Frequent  to  him  ascends  the  sacrifice. 

STROPHE   HI. 

Haste,  then,  Minerva  !  beauteous  maid  !  190 

Descend  in  this  afflictive  hour ; 
Haste  to  thy  dying  people's  aid  ; 

Drive  hence  this  baneful,  this  destructive  power, 
Who  comes  not  arm'd  with  hostile  sword  or  shield. 
Yet  strews  with  many  a  corse  the  ensanguined  field. 


To  Amphitrite's  wide-extending  bed,  196 

O  !  drive  me,  goddess !  from  thy  favorite  land  ; 
Or  let  him,  by  thy  dread  command, 

Bury  in  Thracian  waves  his  ignominious  head. 

ANTISTROPHE.   Ill, 

Father  of  all,  immortal  Jove !  200 

O !  now  thy  fiery  terrors  send ; 

From  thy  dreadful  stores  above 
Let  lightnings  blast  him,  and  let  thunders  rend. 
And  thou,  O  Lydian  king !  thy  aid  impart ; 
Send  from  thy  golden  bow  the  unerring  dart ;         206 

Smile,  chaste  Diana !  on  this  loved  abode, 
Whilst  Theban  Bacchus  joins  the  maddening  throng. 

0  god  of  wine,  and  mirth,  and  song  ! 

Now  with  thy  torch  destroy  the  base,  inglorimis  god. 

{_Exeunt. 
ACT  II. 

CEDlPUS,  CHORUS,  the  People  assembled, 

(Edi,  Your  prayers  are  heard  ;  and,  if  you  will  obey 
Your  king,  and  hearken  to  his  words,  you  soon      211 
Shall  find  relief;  myself  will  heal  your  woes. 

1  was  a  stranger  to  the  dreadful  deed, 
A  stranger  ev'n  to  the  report  till  now ; 

And  yet,  without  some  traces  of  the  crime,  216 

I  should  not  urge  this  matter ;  therefore  hear  me. 

I  speak  to  all  the  citizens  of  Thebes, 

Myself  a  citizen ;  observe  me  well : 

If  any  know  the  murderer  of  Laius, 

Let  him  reveal  it ;  I  command  you  all ;  220 

But  if,  restrained  by  dread  punishment 

209  Bacchus  is  always  described  with  torches ;  probably  in 
remembrance  of  his  birth,  as  being  bora  in  flames,  when  his 
mother  Semele  was  consumed  by  Jove's  lightning. 

SOPH.  R 


268 


SOPHOCLES, 


r 


285 


He  hide  the  secret,  let  him  fear  no  more  ; 

For  naught  but  exile  shall  attend  the  crime, 

Whene'er  confessed ;  if  by  a  foreign  hand 

The  horrid  deed  was  done,  who  points  him  out       22o 

Commands  our  thanks,  and  meets  a  sure'reward  ; 

But  if  there  be  who  knows  the  murderer, 

And  yet  conceals  him  from  us,  mark  his  fate, 

Which  here  I  do  pronounce :  let  none  receive, 

Throughout  my  kingdom,  none  hold  converse  with  him, 

Nor  offer  prayer,  nor  sprinkle  o'er  his  head  231 

The  sacred  cup  ;  let  him  be  driven  from  all, 

By  all  abandoned,  and  by  all  accursed ; 

For  so  the  Delphic  oracle  declared  : 

And  therefore  to  the  gods  I  pay  this  duty. 

And  to  the  dead.    O !  may  the  guilty  wretch, 

Whether  alone,  or  by  his  impious  friends 

Assisted,  he  performed  the  horrid  deed. 

Denied  the  common  benefits  of  nature, 

Wear  out  a  painful  life  !  and,  O  !  if  here, 

Within  my  palace  I  conceal  the  traitor, 

On  me  and  mine  alight  the  vengeful  curse  ! 

To  you,  my  people !  I  commit  the  care 

Of  this  important  business  ;  'tis  my  cause, 

The  cause  of  Heaven,  and  your  expiring  country.  245 

Ev'n  if  the  god  had  naught  declared,  to  leave 

This  crime  unexpiated  were  most  ungrateful : 

He  was  the  best  of  kings,  the  best  of  men ; 

That  sceptre  now  is  mine  which  Laius  bore  : 

His  wife  is  mine ;  so  would  his  children  be. 

Did  any  live  ;  and  therefore  am  I  bound, 

231  Before  the  sacrifice,  it  was  customary  for  those  who 
partook  of  it  to  wash  their  hands  together  in  the  lustral  water, 
with  which  they  were  afterwards  sprinkled  ,by  the  priests,  by 
way  of  purification :  to  be  denied  this,  was  always  considered 
as  a  mark  of  guilt  and  infamy. 


240 


250 


CEDIPUS  TYRANNUS. — ACT   II. 


259 


Ev*n  as  he  were  ray  father,  to  revenge  him. 

Yes,  I  will  try  to  find  this  murderer; 

I  owe  it  to  the  son  of  Labdacus, 

To  Polydorus,  Cadmus,  and  the  race  255 

Of  great  Agenor.     O !  if  yet  there  are. 

Who  will  not  join  me  in  the  pious  deed  ; 

From  such  may  Earth  withhold  her  annual  store, 

And  barren  be  their  bed,  their  life  most  wretched. 

And  their  death  cruel  as  the  pestilence  260 

That  wastes  our  city  :  but  on  you,  my  Thebans  ! 

Who  wish  us  fair  success,  may  Justice  smile 

Propitious,  and  the  gods  for  ever  bless  ! 

Cho.  O  king !  thy  imprecation  unappall'd 
I  hear,  and  join  thee,  guiltless  of  the  crime,  265 

Nor  knowing  who  committed  it.    The  god    , 
Alone,  who  gave  the  oracle,  must  clear 
Its  doubtful  sense,  and  point  out  the  offender. 

CEdi.  'Tis  true  ;  but  who  shall  force  the  powers  di- 
vine 
To  speak  their  hidden  purpose  ? 

Cho.  One  thing  more,  270 

If  I  might  speak. 

(Edi.  Say  on,  whate'er  thy  mind 

Shall  dictate  to  thee. 

Cho.  As  amongst  the  gods 

All -knowing  Phoebus,  so  to  mortal  men 
Doth  sage  Tiresias  in  foreknowlege  sure 
Shine  forth  pre-eminent :  perchance  his  aid 
Might  much  avail  us.  275 

GSdi.  Creon  did  suggest 

The  same  expedient,  and  by  his  advice 
Twice  have  I  sent  for  this  Tiresias  :  much     ' 
I  wonder  that  he  comes  not. 

Cho.  'Tis  most  fitting 

We  do  consult  him ;  for  the  idle  tales  280 


■M 


1^>? 


-r!-t--ats  ji^vWewBeass^ 


260 


SOPHOCLES. 


(EDIPUS    TYRANNUS.—ACT   11. 


261 


Which  rumor  spreads  are  not  to  be  regarded. 

CEdi.  What  are  those  'tales  ?  for  naught  should  we 
despise. 

Cho.  'Tis  said,  some  travellers  did  attack  the  king. 

CEdi.  It  is ;  but  still  no  proof  appears. 

Cho.  And  yst, 

If  it  be  so,  thy  dreadful  execration  235 

Will  force  the  guilty  to  confess. 

CEdi.  O  no ! 

Who  fears  not  to  commit  the  crime,  will  ne'er 
Be  frighted  at  the  curse  that  follows  it. 

Cho.  Behold,  he  comes,  who  will  discover  all ; 
The  holy  prophet,  see !    They  lead  him  hither  :       290 
He  knows  the  truth,  and  will  reveal  it  to  us. 

Enter  Tiresias, 

CEdi.  O  sage  Tiresias  !  thou,  who  know'st  all 
That  can  be  known,  the  things  of  heaven  above 
And  earth  below  ;  whose  mental  eye  beholds, 
Blind  as  thou  art,  the  state  of  dying  Thebes,  295 

And  weeps  her  fate  ;  to  thee  we  look  for  aid ; 
On  thee  alone  for  safety  we  depend. 
This  answer,  which  perchance  thou  hast  not  heard, 
Apollo  gave  :  The  plague,  he  said,  should  cease. 
When  those  who  murder'd  Laius  were  discover*d,  300 
And  paid  the  forfeit  of  their  crime  by  death 
Or  banishment.     O  !  do  not  then  conceal 
Aught  that  thy  art  prophetic,  from  the  flight 
Of  birds  or  other  omens,  may  disclose. 
O  !  save  thyself,  save  this  afflicted  city,  305 

Save  (Edipus,  avenge  the  guiltless  dead 
From  this  pollution  !    Thou  art  all  our  hope  : 
Remember,  'tis  the  privilege  of  man, 
His  noblest  function,  to  assist  the  wretched. 

TiR.  Alas  !  what  misery  it  is  to  know,  310 


When  knowlege  is  thus  fatal !     O  Tiresias ! 
Thou  art  undone.     Would  I  had  never  come ! 

CEdi.  What  say*st  thou  P     Whence  this  strange  de- 
jection?    Speak. 
TiR.  Let  me  be  begone  ;  'twere  better  for  us  both 
That  I  retire  in  silence  :  be  advised.  315 

CEdi.  It  is  ingratitude  to  Thebes,  who  bore 
Aud  cherished  thee  ;  it  is  unjust  to  all, 
To  hide  the  will  of  Heaven. 

TiR.  'Tis  rash  in  thee 

To  ask,  and  rash  I  fear  will  prove  my  answer. 

Cho.  O  !  do  not,  by  the  gods,  conceal  it  from  us  : 
Suppliant  we  all  request,  we  all  conjure  thee.         321 

TiR.  You  know  not  what  you  ask :  I'll  not  unveil 
Your  miseries  to  you, 

CEdi.  -  Know'st  thou  then  our  fate, 

And  will  not  tell  it  ?    Mean'st  thou  to  betray 
Thy  country  and  thy  king  ? 

TiR.  I  would  not  make        325 

Myself  and  thee  unhappy  :  why  thus  blame 
My  tender  care,  nor  listen  to  my  caution  ? 
CEdi.  Wretch  as  thou  art,  thou  wouldst  provoke  a 
stone, 
Inflexible  and  cruel,  still  implored. 
And  still  refusing. 

TiR.  Thou  condemn'st  my  warmth,  330 

Forgetful  of  thy  own. 

CEdi.  Who  would  not  rage, 

To  see  an  injured  people  treated  thus 
With  vile  contempt  ? 

TiR.  What  is  decreed  by  Heaven 

Must  come  to  pass,  though  I  reveal  it  not. 
CEdi.  Still  'tis  thy  duty  to  inform  us  of  it.  335 

TiR.  I  *11  speak  no  more,  not  though  thine  anger 
swell 


1:; 


I  \ 


V' 


262 


S0PH0CLE3. 


CEDIPUS    TYRANNUS. — ACT   11. 


263 


Ev'n  to  its  utmost. 

GEdi.  Nor  will  I  be  silent 

I  tell  thee,  once  for  all,  thou  wert  thyself 
Accomplice  in  this  deed ;  nay  more,  I  think, 
But  for  thy  blindness,  wouldst  with  thy  own  hand  340 

Have  done  it  too. 

TiR.  *Tis  well ;  now  hear  Tiresias : 

The  sentence,  which  thou  didst  thyself  proclaim, 
Falls  on  thyself:  henceforth  shall  never  man 
Hold  converse  with  thee,  for  thou  art  accursed; 
The  guilty  cause  of  this  our  city's  woes.  345 

CEdi.  Audacious  traitor;!  think'st  thou  to  escape 
The  hand  of  vengeance  ? 

TiR.  Yes,  I  fear  thee  not ; 

For  truth  is  stronger  than  a  tyrant's  arm. 

CEdi.  Whence  didst  thou  learn  this  ?    Was  it  from 
thy  art  ? 

TiR.  Ilearn'd  it  from  thyself:  thou  didst  compel 
me  350 

To  speak,  unwilling  as  I  was. 

GEdi.  Once  more 

Repeat  it  then,  that  T  may  know  my  fate 
More  plainly  still. 

TiR.  Is  it  not  plain  already, 

Or  meanest  thou  but  to  tempt  me  ? 

CEdi.  No  ;  but  say. 

Speak  it  again, 

TiR.  Again  then  I  declare  355 

Thou  art  thyself  the  murderer  whom  thou  seek'st ! 

CEdi.  A  second  time  thou  shalt  not  pass  unpunished. 

TiR.  What  wouldst  thou  say,  if  I  should  tell  thee 
allP 

CEdi.  Say  what  thou  wilt ;  for  all  is  false. 

TiR.  Know  then, 

That  CEdipus,  in  shameful  bonds  united  360 


With  those  he  loves,  unconscious  of  his  guilt. 
Is  yet  most  guilty. 

CEdi.  Darest  thou  utter  more. 

And  hope  for  pardon  ? 

TiR.  Yes,  if  there  be  strength 

In  sacred  truth. 

CEdi.  But  truth  dwells  not  in  thee  : 

Thy  body  and  thy  mind  are  dark  alike,  365 

For  both  are  blind  :  thy  every  sense  is  lost. 

TiR.  Thou  dost  upbraid  me  with  the  loss  of  that, 
For  which  thyself  ere  long  shall  meet  reproach 
From  every  tongue. 

CEdi.  Thou  blind  and  impious  traitor! 

Thy  darkness  is  thy  safeguard,  or  this  hour  370 

Had  been  thy  last. 

TiR.  It  is  not  in  my  fate 

To  fall  by  thee  ;  Apollo  guards  his  priest. 

CEdi,  Was  this  the  tale  of  Creon,  or  thy  own  ? 

TiR.  Creon  is  guiltless,  and  the  crime  is  thine. 

CEdi.  O  riches,  power,  dominion,  and  thou  far    375 
Above  them  all,  the  best  of  human  blessings. 
Excelling  wisdom,  how  doth  envy  love 
To  follow  and  oppress  you !    This  fair  kingdom. 
Which,  by  the  nation's  choice  and  not  my  own, 
I  here  possess,  Creon,  my  faithful  friend,  380 

(For  such  I  thought  him  once,)  would  now  wrest  from 

me, 
And  hath  suborn'd  this  vile  impostor  here, 
This  wandering  hypocrite,  of  sharpest  sight 
When  interest  prompts,  but  ignorant  and  blind 
When  fools  consult  him.     Tell  me,  prophet !  where 
Was  all  thy  art,  when  the  abhorred  sphinx  386 

Alarm*d  our  city  ?    Wherefore  did  not  then 
Thy  wisdom  save  us  ?    Then  the  man  divine 
Was  wanting  ;  but  thy  birds  refused  their  omens ; 


I       I 


264 


SOPHOCLES. 


(EDIPUS   TYRANNUS. — ACT   II. 


265 


Thy  god  was  silent;  then  came  (Edipns,  390 

This  poor,  aniearned,  uninstnicted  sage, 

Who  not  from  birds  uncertain  omens  drew, 

But  by  his  own  sagacious  mind  explored 

The  hidden  mystery  ;  and  now  thou  comest 

To  cast  me  from  the  throne  my  wisdom  gain'd,       395 

And  share  with  Creon  ray  divided  empire. 

But  you  should  both  lament  your  ill-got  power. 

You  and  your  bold  compeer ;  for  thee,  this  moment, 

But,that  I  bear  respect  unto  thy  age, 

I  'd  make  thee  rue  thy  execrable  purpose.  400 

Cho.   You  both  are  angry,  therefore  both  to  blame : 
Much  rather  should  you  join,  with  friendly  zeal 
And  mutual  ardor,  to  explore  the  will 
Of  all-deciding  Heaven. 

TiR.  What  though  thou  rulest 

O'er  Thebes  despotic,  we  are  equal  here  ;  405 

I  am  Apollo's  subject,  and  not  thine  ; 
Nor  want  I  Creon  to  protect  me.     No ; 
I  tell  thee,  king !  this  blind  Tiresias  tells  thee. 
Seeing  thou  seest  not,  know'st  not  where  thou  art. 
What,  or  with  whom.    Canst  thou  inform  me  who 
Thy  parents  are,  and  what  thy  horrid  crimes  411 

'Gainst  thy  own  race,  the  living  and  the  dead  ? 
A  father's  and  a  mother's  curse  attend  thee. 
Soon  shall  their  Furies  drive  thee  from  the  land. 
And  leave  thee  dark  like  me :  what  mountain  then. 
Or  conscious  shore,  shall  not  return  the  groans      416 
Of  OBdipus,  and  echo  to  his  woes  ? 
When  thou  shalt  look  on  the  detested  bed  ; 
And  in  that  haven,  where  thou  hopest  to  rest. 
Shall  meet  with  storm  and  tempest ;  then  what  ills  420 
Shall  fall  on  thee  and  thine  !     Now  vent  thy  rage 
On  old  Teresias  and  the  guiltless  Creon  : 
We  shall  be  soon  avenged,  for  ne'er  did  Heaven 


Cut  off  a  wretch  so  base,  so  vile  as  thou  art. 

(Edi.  Must  I  bear  this  from  thee  ?    Away,  begone  ; 
Home,  villain  !_home. 

TiR.  I  did  not  come  to  thee        426 

Unsent  for. 

CEdi,  Had  I  thought  thou  wouldst  have  thus 

Insulted  me,  I  had  not  call'd  thee  hither. 

TiR.  Perhaps  thou  hold'st  Tiresias  as  a  fool 
And  madman  ;  but  thy  parents  thought  me  wise.   430 

CEdi.  My  parents,  saidst  thou  ?     Speak  !  who  were 
my  parents  P 

TiR.  This  day,  that  gives  thee  life,  shall  give  thee 
death. 

CEdi.  Still  dark,  and  still  perplexing  are  the  words 
Thou  utter'st. 

TiR.  'Tis  thy  business  to  unriddle. 

And  therefore  thou  canst  best  interpret  them.  435 

CEdi.  Thou  dost  reproach  me  for  my  virtues. 

TiR-  They, 

And  thy  good  fortune,  have  undone  thee. 

^^^-  Since 

I  saved  the  city,  I  'm  content. 

TiR.  Farewell. 

Boy  !  lead  me  hence. 

5^Di.  Away  with  him,  for  here 

His  presence  but  disturbs  us ;  being  gone,  440 

W  e  shall  be  happier. 

TiR.  CEdipus  !  I  go ; 

But  first  inform  thee,  (for  I  fear  thee  not,) 
Wherefore  I  came  :  know  then,  I  came  to  tell  thee. 
The  man  thou  seek'st,  the  man  on  whom  thou  poar'dst 

432  That  is,   '  This  day,  which  shaU  discover  who  thy  pa- 
rents are  that  gave  thee   life,  shall  also,    by  that  discovery, 

th^f  h     '  ^^^^  ^°^  ^^^^  ^  ^^^^  ^^®  murderer  of 


f 


I 


[, 


266 


SOPHOCLES. 


CEDIPUS  TYRANNUS. — ACT  III. 


267 


445 


450 


455 


Thy  execrations,  ev'n  the  murderer 

Of  Laius,  now  is  here  ;  a  seeming  stranger, 

And  yet  a  Theban.     He  shall  suffer  soon 

For  all  his  crimes :  from  light  and  affluence  dnven 

To  penury  and  darkness,  poor  and  blind, 

Propp'd  on  his  staff,  and  from  his  native  land 

Expeird,  I  see  him  in  a  foreign  clime 

A  helpless  wanderer  ;  to  his  sons  at  once, 

A  father  and  a  brother  ;  child  and  husband 

Of  her  from  whom  he  sprang.     Adulterous, 

Incestuous  parricide !  now  fare  thee  well : 

Go,  learn  the  truth ;  and  if  it  be  not  so, 

Say  I  have  ne'er  deserved  the  name  of  prophet. 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE  I. 

When  will  the  guilty  wretch  appear, 
Whom  Delphi's  sacred  oracle  demands  ; 

Author  of  crimes  too  black  for  mortal  ear. 
Dipping  in  royal  blood  his  sacrilegious  hands? 
Swift  as  the  storm  by  rapid  whirlwinds  driven. 
Quick  let  him  fly  the  impending  wrath  of  Heaven  ; 

For,  lo !  the  angry  son  of  Jove, 

ArmM  with  red  lightnings  from  above,  40^ 

Pursues  the  murderer  with  immortal  hate. 
And  round  him  spreads  the  snares  of  unrelenting  fate. 

ANTISTROPHE   1. 

From  steep  Parnassus'  rocky  cave, 
Covered  with  snow,  came  forth  the  dread  command  ; 

Apollo  thence  his  sacred  mandate  gave,  47U 

To  search  the  man  of  blood  through  every  land. 
Silent  and  sad,  the  weary  wanderer  roves 
O'er  pathless  rocks  and  solitary  groves, 
Hoping  to  'scape  the  wrath  divine 
Denounced  from  great  Apollo's  shrine  :  475 


460 


Vain  hopes  to  'scape  the  fate  by  Heaven  decreed  ! 
For  vengeance  hovers  still  o'er  his  devoted  head. 

STROPHE  II. 

Tiresias,  famed  for  wisdom's  lore. 
Hath  dreadful  ills  to  CEdipus  divined  ; 

And  as  his  words  mysterious  I  explore,  480 

Unnumber'd  doubts  perplex  my  anxious  mind  : 
Now  raised  by  hope,  and  now  with  fears  oppress'd, 
Sorrow  and  joy  alternate  fill  my  breast. 

How  should  these  hapless  kings  be  foes. 
When  never  strife  between  them  rose  ?  485 

Or  why  should  Laius,  slain  by  hands  unknown, 
Bring  foul  disgrace  on  Polybus'  unhappy  son  ? 

ANTISTROPHE   II. 

From  Phoebus  and  all-seeing  Jove 
Naught  can  be  hid  of  actions  here  below  ; 

But  earthly  prophets  may  deceitful  prove,  490 

And  litttle  more  than  other  mortals  know. 
Though  much  in  wisdom  man  doth  man  excel, 
In  all  that 's  human  error  still  must  dwell. 
Could  he  commit  the  bloody  deed, 
Who  from  the  sphinx  our  city  freed  ?  495 

O  no !  he  never  shed  the  guiltless  blood  ; 
The  sphinx  declares  him  wise,  and  innocent,  and  good. 

lExeutU, 

ACT   III. 

CREON,   CHORUS. 

Cre.  O  CITIZENS  I  with  grief  I  hear  your  king 

Hath  blasted  the  fair  fame  of  guiltless  Creon, 

And  most  unjustly  brands  me  with  a  crime  500 

My  soul  abhors.     Whilst  desolation  spreads 

On  every  side,  and  universal  ruin 

Hangs  o'er  the  land,  if  I  in  word  or  deed 


268 


SOPHOCLES. 


(EDIPUS    TYRANNUS.— ACT   III. 


505 


510 


CJould  join  to  swell  the  woes  of  hapless  Thebes, 

I  were  unworthy,  nay,  I  would  not  wish 

To  live  another  day.     Alas,  my  friends  ! 

Thus  to  be  deemed  a  traitor  to  my  country. 

To  you,  my  fellow-citizens  !  to  all 

That  hear  me,  O !  'tis  infamy  and  shame  : 

I  cannot,  will  not  bear  it. 

Cho.  'Twas  the  effect 

Of  sudden  anger  only ;  what  he  said, 
But  could  not  think. 

Cre.  Who  told  him  I  suborn'd 

The  prophet  to  speak  falsely  P     What  could  raise 
This  vile  suspicion  ? 

Cho.  Such  he  had,  but  whence 

I  know  not. 

Cre.  Talk'd  he  thus  with  firm  composure  515 

And  confidence  of  mind  ? 

Cho.  I  cannot  say  ; 

*Tis  not  for  me  to  know  the  thoughts  of  kings, 
Or  judge  their  actions  :  but,  behold,  he  comes. 

Enter  CEdipus. 
CEdi.  Ha!  Creon  here?    And  darest  thou  thus  ap- 
proach 
My  palace  ?  thou,  who  wouldst  have  murder'd  me,  520 
And  taken  my  kingdom  ?    By  the  gods,  I  ask  thee, 
(Answer  me,  traitor  !)  didst  thou  think  me  fool 
Or  coward,  that  I  could  not  see  thy  arts. 
Or  had  not  strength  to  vanquish  them  ?  What  mad- 
ness. 
What  strange  infatuation,  led  thee  on,  625 

Without  or  force  or  friends,  to  grasp  at  empire, 
Which  only  their  united  force  can  give? 
What  wert  thou  doing  ? 

Cre.  Hear  what  I  shall  answer, 


269 


« fl« 


Then  judge  impartial. 

n^i\  .,      .  ^^^^  ^^'^^^  *alk  it  well, 

But  I  shall  ne  er  attend  to  thee :  thy  guilt  530 

Is  plain ;  thou  art  my  deadliest  foe. 

What%  shall  urge.  ^"*  ^'"^ 

^T\r     .r      .   .   S^y  no^  thou  artinnocent. 
Cre.  If  self-opmion,  void  of  reason,  seem 

(5^'m    a"  hM^'''  '^""^^  '^°"  «"'«^  ^^'^  ff^ossly. 
Unpunish  d  for  this  injury  to  thy  friend.  536 

H.v?*T  't  ?*^  "^^"^  ^  ^""^^^y  '  "^"t  ^'hat  crime 

Have  I  committed  ?    Tell  me. 

rp/^^'-        ,  Wert  not  thou 

Ihe  man,  who  urged  me  io  require  the  aid 
Ut  your  all-knowing  prophet  ? 

f  J. .               .                                  True,  I  was:  540 

I  did  persuade  you :  so  I  would  again. 
CEdi.  How  long  is  it  since  Laius 

cv>*    c-        T    .      r  ,,  .  Laius?   what? 

^Di.  Since  Lams  fell  by  hands  unknown  ? 

Long  tract  of  years.  /.long, 

CEdi  Was  this  Tiresias  then 

A  prophet  ? 

Cre.  Ay,  in  wisdom  and  in  fame.  ^4*i 

As  now,  excelling.  '  ^^^ 

CoSrmngmer  ^^  "o  then  say  aught 

Cre.  I  never  heard  he  did. 

W^"!;  ^""^""S  this  murder,  did  joune'er  inquire 
Who  were  the  authors  ?  h""" 

^m   Wh    A- A      .  .V    Doubtless ;  but  io  vain. 
(Edi.  Why  did  not  the  same  prophet  then  inform 

'"'"'  550 


270 


SOPHOCLES. 


CEDIPUS  TYRANNUS.— ACT  III. 


271 


Cre.  I  know  not  that,  and  when  I  'm  ignorant 

I  'm  always  silent. 

CEdi  What  concerns  thyself 

At  least  thou  know'st,  and  therefore  shouldst  declare  it. 

Cre.  What  is  it  ?    Speak ;  and  if  His  in  my  power, 

I /U  answer  thee.  .«  , .   m-      •      fif^K 

'  (Edt.  Thou  know'st,  if  this  Tiresias  655 

Had  not  combined  with  thee,  he  would  not  thus 

Accuse  me  as  the  murderer  of  Laius. 

Cre.  What  he  declares  thou  besj  canst  tell ;  ot  me, 
What  thou  requirest,  myself  am  yet  to  learn. 

(Edi.  Go,  learn  it  then ;  but  ne'er  shalt  thou  dis- 

560 
cover 

That  CEdipus  is  guilty. 

CRg^  Art  not  thou 

My  sister's  husband  ? 
CEdi  Granted. 

C^g  *  Join'd  with  her, 

Thou  rulest  o'er  Thebes.  ,    „   .        ,, 

(Eu,^  'Tis  true,  and  all  she  asks 

Most  freely  do  I  give  her. 
C^g^  Is  not  Creon 

In  honor  next  to  you  ?  ,   ,       -  .«< 

(Ejj,^  Thou  art,  and  therefore        565 

The  more  ungrateful.  ^  .  »   v  n    i  «^ 

Q^^  Hear  what  I  shall  plead, 

And  thou  wilt  never  think  so  ;  tell  me,  prince  ! 

Is  there  a  man,  who  would  prefer  a  throne. 

With  all  its  dangers,  to  an  equal  rank 

In  peace  and  safety  ?    I  am  not  of  those  570 

Who  choose  the  name  of  king  before  the  power ; 

Fools  only  make  such  wishes  :  I  have  all 

From  thee,  and  fearless  I  enjoy  it  all. 

Had  I  the  sceptre,  often  must  I  act 

Against  my  will.    Know  then,  I  am  not  yet  675 


So  void  of  sense  and  reason,  as  to  quit 

A  real  'vantage  for  a  seeming  good. 

Am  I  not  happy  ?  am  I  not  revered. 

Embraced,  and  loved  by  all  ?    To  me  they  come 

Who  want  thy  favor,  and  by  me  acquire  it :  580 

What  then  should  Creon  wish  for  ?    Shall  he  leave 

All  this  for  empire  P     Bad  desires  corrupt 

The  fairest  mind  :  I  never  entertained 

A  thought  so  vile,  nor  would  I  lend  my  aid 

To  forward  such  base  purposes.     But  go  535 

To  Delphi ;  ask  th'e  sacred  oracle 

If  I  have  spoke  the  truth  :  if  there  you  find 

That  with  the  prophet  I  conspired,  destroy 

The  guilty  Creon  :  not  thy  voice  alone 

Shall  then  condemn  me,  for  myself  will  join  590 

In  the  just  sentence ;  but  accuse  me  not 

On  weak  suspicion's  most  uncertain  test. 

Justice  would  never  call  the  wicked  good. 

Or  brand  fair  virtue  with  the  name  of  vice. 

Unmerited :  to  cast  away  a  friend  '  595 

Faithful  and  just,  is  to  deprive  ourselves 

Of  life  and  being,  which  we  hold  most  dear : 

But  time,  and  time  alone,  revealeth  all ; 

That  only  shows  the  good  man's  excellence : 

A  day  sufficeth  to  unmask  the  wicked.  *  goo 

Cho.  O  king  !  his  caution  merits  your  regard  • 
Who  judge  in  haste  do  seldom  judge  aright. 

'T^^I'j^J'^V^^^  ^'^  "^"'^^  ^^^  P^°^  against  my  life, 
lis  fit  I  should  be  quick  in  my  defence  : 

If  I  am  tame  and  silent,  all  they  wish     '  e05 

Will  soon  be  done,  and  CEdipus  must  fall. 

^E.  What  wouldst  thou  have ?  my  banishment? 

^E.  But  first  inform  me  wherefore  I  should  die 
CEdi.  Dost  thou  rebel  then  ?    Wilt  thou  not  submit  ^ 


272  SOPHOCLES; 

Cre.  Not  when  I  see  thee  thus  deceived. 


(EDIPUS    TYRANNUS.— ACT  III. 


273 


'Tis  fit  610 


616 


CEdi. 
I  should  defend  my  own. 

(^j^g^  And  so  should  1. 

CEdi.  Thou  art  a  traitor. 

^^|;  What,  if  I  should  prove 

I  am  not  so  ?  ,      ,     » j 

CEdi.  A  king  must  be  obey  d. 

Cre.'  Not  if  his  orders  are  unjust,  ^^^^^  ^ 

CEdi. 
O'citizens!  ^,    _ 

Cre.  I  too  can  call  on  Thebes  : 

She  is  my  country. 

Cho.  O  !  no  more,  my  lords  ! 

For,  see,  Jocasta  comes  in  happiest  hour 
To  end  your  contest. 

Enter  Jocasta. 

jq^j  Whence  this  sudden  tumult  ? 

O  princes !  is  this  well,  at  such  a  time 
With  idle  broils  to  multiply  the  woes  620 

Of  wretched  Thebes?    Home,  home,  for  shame;  3or 

thus 
With  private  quarrel  swell  the  public  ruin. 

Cre.  Sister!  thy  husband  hath  most  basely  used 

me ; 
He  threatens  me  with  banishment  or  death. 

CEdi.  I  do  confess  it ;  for  he  did  conspire, 
With  vile  and  wicked  arts,  against  my  life. 

Cre.  O  !  may  I  never  prosper,  but,  accursed, 
Unpitied,  perish  if  I  ever  did  ! 

Joe.  Believe  him,  OEdipus  !  revere  the  gods 
Whom  he  contests,  if  thou  dost  love  Jocasta  : 
Thy  subjects  beg  it  of  thee. 

Cho.  Hear,  O  king ! 


€25 


630 


Consider,  we  intreat  thee. 

CEdi.  What  \7ouldst  Lave  ? 

Think  you  I  'II  e'er  submit  to  him  ? 

Cho.  Revere 

His  character,  his  oath,  both  pleading  for  him. 

CEdi.  But  know  you  what  you  ask  ? 

Cho.  We  do. 

CEdi.  What  is  it  ?  635 

Cho.  We  ask  thee  to  believe  a  guiltless  friend, 
Nor  cast  him  forth  dishonored  thus,  on  slight 
Suspicion's  weak  surmise. 

CEdi.  Requesting  this. 

You  do  request  my  banishment  or  death. 

Cho.  No,  by  yon  leader  of  the  heavenly  host,      640 
The  immortal  sun,  I  had  not  such  a  thought : 
I  only  felt  for  Thebes'  distressful  state, 
And  would  not  have  it  by  domestic  strife 
Embitter'd  thus. 

CEdi.  Why,  let  him  then  depart : 

If  CEdi  pus  must  die,  or  leave  his  country,  645 

For  shameful  exile,  be  it  so  :  I  yield 
To  thy  request,  not  his  ;  for  hateful  still 
Shall  Creon  ever  be. 

Cre.  Thy  stubborn  soul 

Bends  with  reluctance,  and,  when  anger  fires  it. 
Is  terrible;  but  natures,  form'd  like  thine,  650 

Are  their  own  punishment. 

CEdi.  Wilt  thou  not  hence  ? 

Wilt  not  be  gone  ? 

Cre.  I  go  :  thou  know'st  me  not ; 

But  these  will  do  me  justice.  [Exit  Creon. 

Cho,  Princess !  now 

Persuade  him  to  retire. 

Joe.  First,  let  me  know 

SOPH.  s 


1! 


274 


SOPHOCLES. 


655 


The  cause  of  this  dissension. 

Cho.  From  reports 

Uncertain,  and  suspicions  most  injurious, 

The  quarrel  rose. 
Joe.  Was  the  accusation  mutual  ? 

Cho.  It  was. 

Joe.  What  followed  then  ? 

Qy^Q^  Ask  me  no  more  ; 

Enough  's  already  known  :  we  '11  not  repeat 
The  woes  of  hapless  Thebes. 

CEoi,  You  are  all  blind,  660 

Insensible,  unjust ;  you  love  me  not, 
Yet  boast  your  piety. 

Cho.  I  said  before, 

Again  I  say,  that  not  to  love  my  king 
Ev'n  as  myself,  would  mark  me  for  the  worst 
Of  men  ;  for  thou  didst  save  expiring  Thebes.         665 
O  !  rise  once  more,  protect,  preserve  thy  country  ! 
Joe.  O  king !  inform  me,  whence  this  strange  dis- 

sension  ?  , 

CEdi.  I  '11  tell  thee,  my  Jocasta  !  (for  thou  know  st 
The  love  I  bear  thee)  what  this  wicked  Creon 
Did  artfully  devise  against  me. 

Joe.  Speak  it,  670 

If  he  indeed  be  guilty. 

CEdi.  Croon  says 

That^I  did  murder  Laius. 

Joe.  Spake  he  this. 

As  knowing  it  himself,  or  from  another  ? 

CEdi.  He  had  suborn'd  that  evil-working  priest, 
And  sharpens  every  tongue  against  his  king.  675 

Joe.  Let  not  a  fear  perplex  thee,  CEdipus  !^ 
Mortals  know  nothing  of  futurity. 
And  these  prophetic  seers  are  all  impostors ; 
I  'II  prove  it  to  thee.    Know,  then,  Lauis  once. 


CEDIPUS   TYRANNLS.— ACT  lil. 


275 


Not  from  Apollo,  but  his  priests,  received  680 

An  oracle,  which  said,  it  was  decreed 

He  should  be  slain  by  his  own  son,  the  offspring 

Of  Laius  and  Jocasta  :  yet  he  fell 

By  strangers  murder'd  (for  so  fame  reports) 

By  robbers  in  the  place  where  three  ways  meet.     685 

A  son  was  born  ;  but  ere  three  days  had  pass'd, 

The  infant's  feet  were  bored  ;  a  servant  took, 

And  left  him  on  the  pathless  mountain's  top, 

To  perish  there  :  thus  Phoebus  ne'er  decreed 

That  he  should  kill  his  father,  or  that  Laius  690 

(Which  much  he  fcar'd)  should  by  his  son  be  slain. 

Such  is  the  truth  of  oracles  :  henceforth 

Regard   them  not.      What  Heaven   would  have   us 

know. 
It  can  with  ease  unfold,  and  will  reveal  it. 

CEdi.  What  thou  hast  said,  Jocasta  !  much  disturbs 
me:  695 

I  tremble  at  it. 

Joe.  Wherefore  shouldst  thou  fear  ? 

CEdi.  Methought  I  heard  thee  say,  Laius  was  slain 
Where  three  ways  meet. 

Joe.  'Twas  so  reported  then, 

And  is  so  still. 

CEdi.  Where  happen'd  the  misfortune  ? 

Joe.  In  Phocis,  where  the  roads  unite,  that  lead 
To  Delphi  and  to  Daulia. 

CEdi.  How  long  since  P  701 

Joe.  A  little  time  ere  you  began  to  reign 
O'er  Thebes,  we  heard  it. 

CEdi.  O  almighty  Jove  ! 

What  wilt  thou  do  with  me  ? 

Joe.  Why  talk'st  thou  thus  ? 

CEdi.  Ask  me  no  more ;  but  tell  me  of  this  Laius, 
What  was  his  age  and  stature? 

Joe.  He  was  tall ;        706 


ill 


276 


SOPHOCLES. 


His  hairs  just  turning;  to  the  silver  hue ; 
His  form  not  much  unlike  thy  own. 

OEdi.  -  O  me ! 

Sure  I  have  call'd  down  curses  on  myself 
Unknowing. 

Joe.  Ha  !  what  say'st  thou,  CEdipus  ?        710 

I  tremble  whilst  I  look  on  thee. 

CEdi.  O!  much 

I  fear,  the  prophet  saw  too  well :  but  say. 
One  thing  will  make  it  clear. 

Joe.  I  dread  to  hear  it ; 

Yet  speak,  and  1  will  tell  thee, 

OEdi.  Went  he  forth 

With  few  attendants,  or  a  numerous  train,  715 

In  kingly  pomp  ? 

Joe.  They  were  but  five  in  all, 

The  herald  with  them  ;  but  one  chariot  there, 
Which  carried  Laius. 

GEdi.  O  !  His  but  too  plain. 

Who  brought  the  news  ? 

,Joc.  A  servant,  who  alone 

Escaped  with  life. 

GEdi.  That  servant,  is  he  here  ?         720 

Joe.  O  no  :  his  master  slain,  when  he  return'd, 
And  saw  thee  on  the  throne  of  Thebes,  with  prayer 
Most  earnest  he  besought  me  to  dismiss  him, 
That  he  might  leave  this  city,  where  he  wish*d 
No  longer  to  be  seen,  but  to  retire,  725 

And  feed  my  flocks  :  I  granted  his  request ; 
For  that  and  more  his  honest  services 
Had  merited. 

CEdi.  I  beg  he  may  be  sent  for 

Immediately. 

Joe.  He  shall ;  but  wherefore  is  it  ? 

CEdi.  I  fear*ihou  hast  said  too  much,  and  therefore 
wish  730 


CEDIPUS    TYKANNUS. — ACT   III. 


277 


To  see  him. 

Joe.  He  shall  come ;  but,  O  ray  lord  ! 

Am  I  not  worthy  to  be  told  the  cause 
Of  this  distress  ? 

CEdi.  Thou  art,  and  I  will  tell  thee. 

Thou  art  my  hope;  to  whom  should  I  impart 
My  sorrows,  but  to  thee  ?     Know  then,  Jocasta  !    735 
I  am  the  son  of  Polybus,  who  reigns 
At  Corinth,  and  the  Dorian  Merope 
His  queen  :  there  long  I  held  the  foremost  rank, 
Honor'd  and  happy,  when  a  strange  event 
(For  strange  it  was,  though  little  meriting  740 

The  deep  concern  I  felt)  alarra'd  me  much. 
A  drunken  reveller  at  a  feast  proclaim'd 
That  I  was  only  the  supposed  son 
Of  Corinth's  king.     Scarce  could  I  bear  that  day 
The  vile  reproach  ;  the  next,  I  sought  my  parents  745 
And  ask'd  of  them  the  truth  ;  they  too,  enraged. 
Resented  much  the  base  indignity. 
1  liked  their  tender  warmth,  but  still  I  felt 
A  secret  anguish  ;  and,  unknown  to  them. 
Sought  out  the  Pythian  oracle,  in  vain.  750 

Touching  my  parents,  nothing  could  I  learn  ; 
But  dreadful  were  the  miseries  it  denounced 
Against  me  i  'twas  my  fate,  Apollo  said, 
To  wed  my  mother,  to  produce  a  race 
Accursed  and  abhorr'd,  and,  last,  to  slay  755 

My  father  who  begat  me  ; — sad  decree  ! 
Lest  I  should  e'er  fulfil  the  dire  prediction, 
Instant  I  fled  from  Corinth,  by  the  stars 
Guiding  my  hapless  journey  to  the  place 
Where  thou  report'st  this  wretched  king  was  slain. 
But  I  will  tell  thee  the  whole  truth  :  at  length,       761 
I  came  to  where  the  three  ways  meet ;  when,  lo  ! 
A  herald,  with  another  man,  like  him 


il 


1) 


278 


SOPHOCLES. 


OLDIPUS   TYRANNUS. — ACT    III. 


279 


765 


770 


775 


780 


Whom  thou  describest,  and  in  a  chariot,  met  me. 
Both  strove  with  violence  to  drive  me  back. 
Enraged,  I  struck  the  charioteer,  when,  straight, 
As  I  advanced,  the  old  man  saw,  and  twice 
Smote  me  on  the  head  ;  but  dearly  soon  repaid 
The  insult  on  me  :  from  his  chariot  roU'd 
Prone  on  the  earth,  beneath  my  staff  he  fell, 
And  instantly  expired  :  the  attendant  train 
All  shared  his  fate.     If  this  unhappy  stranger 
And  Laius  be  the  same,  lives  their  a  wretch 
So  cursed,  so  hateful  to  the  gods  as  I  am? 
Nor  citizen  nor  alien  must  receive, 
Or  converse  or  communion  hold  with  me. 
But  drive  me  forth  with  infamy  and  shame : 
The  dreadful  curse  pronounced  with  my  own  lips 
Shall  soon  o'ertake  me ;  I  have  stain'd  the  bed 
Of  him  whom  I  had  murder'd;  am  I  then 
Aught  but  pollution  ?     If  I  fly  from  hence, 
The  bed  of  incest  meets  me,  and  I  go 
To  slay  my  father  Polybus,  the  best, 
The  tenderest  parent :  this  must  be  the  work 
Of  some  malignant  power.     Ye  righteous  gods  ! 
Let  me  not  see  that  day,  but  rest  in  death. 
Rather  than  suffer  such  calamity. 

Cho.  O  king!  we  pity  thy  distress  ;  but  wait 
With  patience  his  arrival,  and  despair  not. 

CEdi.  That  shepherd  is  my  only  hope:  Jocasta!  790 

Would  he  were  here  ! 
Joe.  Suppose  he  were  ;  what  then? 

What  wouldst  ihou  do? 

(Edi.  I'll  tell  thee  :  if  he  says 

The  same  as  thou  dost,  I  am  safe,  and  guiltless.. 

Joe.  What  said  I  then  ? 

CEdi.  Thou  said'st  he  did  report 

Laius  was  slain  by  robbers  :  if  'tis  true  795 


785 


800 


805 


He  fell  by  numbers,  I  am  innocent, 
For  I  was  unattended  ;  if  but  one 
Attacked  and  slew  him,  doubtless  I  am  he. 

Joe.  Be  satisfied,  it  must  be  as  he,  first 
Reported  it ;  he  cannot  change  the  tale. 
Not  I  alone,  but  the  whole  city  heard  it : 
Or  grant  he  should,  the  oracle  was  ne'er 
Fulfill'd ;  for  Phoebus  said,  Jocasta's  son 
Should  slay  his  father  ;  that  could  never  be. 
For,  O  !  Jocasta's  son  long  since  is  dead. 
He  could  not  murder  Laius  ;  therefore,  never  , 
Will  I  attend  to  prophecies  again. 

CEdi.  Right,  my  Jocasta !  but,  I  beg  thee,  send 
And  fetch  this  shepherd  ;  do  not  fail. 

Joe.  I  will, 

This  moment ;  come,  my  lord !  let  us  go  in ;  810 

I  will  do  nothing  but  what  pleases  thee.  [Exeunt. 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE    I. 

Grant  me,  henceforth,  ye  powers  divine  ! 

In  virtue's  purest  paths  to  tread  ; 

In  every  word,  in  every  deed. 
May  sanctity  of  manners  ever  shine  ; 

Obedient  to  the  laws  of  Jove, 

The  laws  descended  from  above  ; 
Which,  not  like  those  by  feeble  mortals  given, 

Buried  in  dark  oblivion  lie. 

Or,  worn  by  time,  decay  and  die ; 
But  bloom  eternal  like  their  native  heaven  ! 

ANTISTROPHE   I. 

Pride  first  gave  birth  to  tyranny : 

That  hateful  vice,  insulting  Pride, 
When,  every  human  power  defied. 
She  lifts  to  glory's  height  her  votary; 


815 


820 


SW 


280 


SOPHOCLES. 


ii 


Soon  stumbling,  from  her  tottering  throne 

She  throws  the  wretched  victim  down. 
Bat  may  the  god,  indulgent,  hear  my  prayer, 

That  god,  whom  humbly  I  adore  : 

O  !  may  he  smile  on  Thebes  once  more,  830 

And  take  its  wretched  monarch  to  his  care  ! 

STROPHE   H. 

Perish  the  impious  and  profane. 
Who,  void  of  reverential  fear. 
Nor  justice  nor  the  laws  revere  ; 

Who  leave  their  god  for  pleasure  or  for  gain  ;         836 
Who  swell  by  fraud  their  ill -got  store  j 
Who  rob  the  wretched  and  the  poor. 

If  vice,  unpunished,  virtue's  meed  obtain, 
Who  shall  refrain  the  impetuous  soul, 
The  rebel  passions  who  control,  840 

Or  wherefore  do  I  lead  this  choral  train  ? 

ANTISTROPHE   H. 

No  more  to  Delphi's  sacred  shrine 

Need  we  with  incense  now  repair ; 

No  more  shall  Phocis  hear  our  prayer, 
Nor  fair  Olympia  see  her  rites  divine  ;  845 

If  oracles  no  longer  prove 

The  power  of  Phoebus  and  of  Jove. 
Great  lord  of  all!  from  thy  eternal  throne 

Behold  how  impious  men  defame 

Thy  loved  Apollo's  honored  name  :  850 

O  !  guard  his  rights,  and  vindicate  thy  own.  [Exeunt. 


ACT    IV. 

JOCASTA,  CHORUS. 

Joe.  Saoes  and  rulers  of  the  land !     I  come 
To  seek  the  altars  of  the  gods,  and  there 


(EDIPUS   TYRANNUS. — ACT   IV. 


281 


With  incense  and  oblations  to  appease 

Offended  Heaven.    My  CEdipus,  alas !  855 

No  longer  wise  and  prudent,  as  you  all 

Remember  once  he  was,  with  present  things 

Compares  the  past,  nor  judges  like  himself: 

Unnumber'd  cares  perplex  his  anxious  mind, 

And  every  tale  awakes  new  terrors  in  him.  860 

Vain  is  my  council,  for  he  hears  me  not. 

First  then,  to  thee,  O  Phoebus  !  (for  thou  still 

Art  near  to  help  the  wretched,)  we  appeal. 

And  suppliant  beg  thee  now  to  grant  thy  aid 

Propitious  :  deep  is  our  distress ;  for,  O  !  865 

We  see  our  pilot  sinking  at  the  helm, 

And  much  already  fear  the  vessel  lost. 

Enter  Shepherd  from  Corinth. 

Shep.  Can  you  instruct  me,  strangers !  which  way 
lies 
The  palace  of  king  CEdipus  ?  himself 
I  would  most  gladly  see.    Can  you  inform  me?      870 

Cho.  This  is  the  palace  ;  he  is  now  within; 
Thou  seest  his  queen  before  thee. 

Shep.  Ever  bless'd. 

And  happy  with  the  happy  mayst  thou  live  ! 

Joe.  Stranger !  the  same  good  wish  to  thee,  for  well 
Thy  words   deserve    it :  but   say,   wherefore   comest 
thou,  875 

And  what 's  thy  news  ? 

Shep.  To  thee,  and  to  thy  husband, 

Pleasure  and  joy ! 

Joe.  What  pleasure  ?  and  whence  art  thou  ? 

Shep.    From  Corinth  :   to  be  brief,   I  bring  thee 
tidings 
Of  good  and  evil. 

Joe.  Ha !  what  mean  thy  words 


282 


SOPHOCLES. 


880 


Ambiguous  ? 

Shep.  Know  then,  if  report  say  trae, 

The  Isthmian  people  will  choose  CEdipus 
Their  sovereign. 

Joe.  Is  not  Polybus  their  king  ? 

Shep.  No  ;  Polybus  is  dead. 

Joe.  What  say'st  thou  ?  dead  ? 

Shep.  If  I  speak  falsely,  may  death  seize  on  me  ! 

Joe.  [to  one  of  her  attendants.]  Why  fly'st  thou  not 
to  tell  thy  master  ?     Hence !  88^ 

What  are  you  now,  you  oracles  divine  ? 
Where  is  your  truth  ?     The  fearful  CEdipus 
From  Corinth  fled,  lest  he  should  slay  the  king, 
This  Polybus,  who  perish'd,  not  by  him, 
But  by  the  hand  of  Heaven. 

Enter  CEdipus. 
(jjjj^^  My  dear  Jocasta !     890 

Why  hast  thou  call'd  me  hither  ? 

jq^^  Hear  this  man  ; 

And  when  thou  hear'st  him,  mark  what  faith  is  due 

To  your  revered  oracles. 

QgD,,  What  is  he, 

And  what  doth  he  report?  ^    .  .x 

jqj.  He  comes  from  Corinth, 

And  says,  thy  father  Polybus  is  dead.  895 

CEdi.  What  say'st  thou,  stranger?    Speak  to  me, 

O  '  sneak 
Shep.  If  touching  this  thou  flrstdesirest  my  answer. 

Know,  he  is  dead. 
CEdi.  How  died  he?    Say,  by  treason. 

Or  some  disease  ? 
Shep.  Alas  !  a  little  force 

881  The  people  of  Corinth;  so  called  from  the  famous  isth- 
mus there. 


(EDIPUS  TYRANNUS. — ACT    IV. 


283 


900 


Will  lay  to  rest  the  weary  limbs  of  age. 

CEdi.  Distemper  then  did  kill  him  ? 

Shep.  That  in  part. 

And  part  a  length  of  years  that  wore  him  down. 

CEor.  Now,  my  Jocasta  !  who  shall  henceforth  trust 
To  prophecies,  and  seers,  and  clamorous  birds. 
With  their  vain  omens ; — they  who  had  decreed     905 
That  I  should  kill  my  father  ?     He,  thou  seest, 
Beneath  the  earth  lies  buried,  whilst  I  live 
In  safety  here,  and  guiltless  of  his  blood  : 
Unless,  perhaps,  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  me 
Shorten'd  his  days,  thus  only  could  I  kill  910 

My  father  ;  but,  he  's  gone,  and  to  the  shades 
Hath  carried  with  him  those  vain  oracles 
Of  fancied  ill,  no  longer  worth  my  care. 

Joe.  Did  I  not  say  it  would  be  thus  ? 

GEdi.  Thou  didst ; 

But  I  was  full  of  fears. 

Joe.  Henceforth,  no  more  915 

Indulge  them. 

CEdi.  But  my  mother's  bed — that  still 

Must  be  avoided  :  I  must  fly  from  that. 

Joe.  Why    should    man    fear,  whom    chance,  and 
chance  alone 
Doth  ever  rule  ?     Foreknowlege  all  is  vain, 
And  can  determine  nothing:  therefore  best  920 

It  is  to  live  as  fancy  leads,  at  large, 
Uncurb'd,  and  only  subject  to  our  will. 
Fear  not  thy  mother's  bed  :  ofttimes  in  dreams 
Have  men  committed  incest ;  but  his  life 
Will  ever  be  most  happy  who  contemns  925 

Such  idle  phantoms. 

CEdi.  Thou  wert  right,  Jocasta  ! 

Did  not  my  mother  live  ;  but  as  it  is, 
Spite  of  thy  words,  I  must  be  anxious  still. 

Joe.  Think  on  thy  father's  death,  it  is  a  light 


I 


284 


SOPHOCLES. 


To  guide  thee  here. 

(Edi.  It  is  so ;  yet  I  fear,  939 

Whilst  she  survives  him. 

Shep.  Who  is  it  you  mean  ? 

What  woman  fear  you  ? 

CEdi.  Merope,  the  wife 

Of  Polybus. 

Shep.  And  wherefore  fear  you  her? 

CEdi.  Know,  stranger  !  a  most  dreadful  oracle 
Concerning  her  afifrights  me. 

Shep.  May  I  know  it,  935 

Or  must  it  be  reveal'd  to  none  but  thee  ? 

OSdi.  O,  no,  I  '11  tell  thee  :  Phoebus  hath  declared 
That  (Edipus  should  stain  his  mother's  bed, 
And  dip  his  hands  in  his  own  father's  blood  ; 
Wherefore  I  fled  from  Corinth,  and  lived  here,        940 
In  happiness  indeed  ;  but  still  thou  know'st 
It  is  a  blessing  to  behold  our  parents, 
And  that  I  had  not. 

Shep.  Was  it  for  this  cause 

Thou  wert  an  exile  then  ? 

CEdi.  It  was  :  I  fear'd 

That  I  might  one  day  prove  my  father's  murderer.  945 

Shep.  What  if  I  come,  O  king  !  to  banish  hence 
Thy  terrors,  and  restore  thy  peace  1 

CEdi.  O  stranger ! 

Couldst  thou  do  this,  I  would  reward  thee  nobly. 

Shep.   Know  then,  for  this   I  came ;    I  came  to 
serve. 
And  make  thee  happy. 

(Edi.  But  I  will  not  go  950 

Back  to  my  parents. 

Shep.  Son,  I  see  thou  know'st  not 

What  thou  art  doing. 

CEdi.  Wherefore  think'st  thou  so  ? 

By  Heaven,  I  beg  thee  then  do  thou  instruct  me. 


CEDIPUS   TYRANNUS.— ACT  IV.  285 

Shep.  If  thou  didst  fly  from  Corinth  for  this  cause— 
CEdi.  Apollo's  dire  predictions  still  afi*right  me.  955 
Shep.  Fear'st  thou  pollution  from  thy  parents  ^ 
(Edi.  ;p|j^^ 

And  that  alone,  I  dread.  ' 

^"E**-  Thy  fears  are  vain. 

CEdi.  Not  if  they  are  my  parents. 

„,^"^P-  Polybus 

Was  not  akin  to  thee. 

^  ^^^-  What  say'st  thou  ?    Speak  : 

aay,  was  not  Polybus  my  father  ? 

XT^"^^*    .r^  ^^5  960 

No  more  than  he  is  mine. 

^^^'  Why  call  me  then    ' 

His  son  ? 

Shep.      Because  long  since  I  gave  thee  to  him  : 
He  did  receive  thee  from  these  hands. 

^^^-  Indeed ! 

And  could  he  love  another's  child  so  well  ? 

Shep.  He  had  no  children  ;  that  pursuaded  him  965 
To  take  and  keep  thee. 

^^^'  Didst  thou  buy  me  then, 

Or  am  I  thine,  and  must  I  call  thee  father  ? 
Shep.  I  found  thee  in  Cithaeron's  woody  vale. 
(Edi.  What  brought  thee  there  P 

S"EP-  I  came  to  feed  my  flocks 

On  the  green  mountain's  side. 

^^''  It  seems  thou  wert   970 

A  wandering  shepherd. 

Shep.  Thy  deliverer ; 

I  saved  thee  from  destruction. 

^^^'  How  !  what  then 

Had  happen'd  to  me  ? 

Shep.  Thy  own  feet  will  best 

Inform  thee  of  that  circumstance, 
(Edi.  Alas ! 


; 


286 


SOPHOCLES. 


Why  cairst  thou  to  remembrance  a  misfortune       975 

Of  so  long  date  P 
Shep.  'Twas  I  who  loosed  the  tendons 

Of  thy  bored  feet. 

CEdi.  It  seems,  in  infancy 

I  suffer'd  much  then. 

gHEp.  To  this  incident 

Thou  owest  thy  name. 

CEdi.  My  father  or  my  mother, 

Who  did  it  P     Know'st  thou  ? 
gjjEP.  He,  who  gave  thee  to  me, 

Must  tell  thee  that. 
(Edi.  Then  Vom  another's  hand     981 

Thou  didst  receive  me. 

Shep.  Ay,  another  shepherd. 

OEdi.  Who  was  he  P     Canst  thou  recollect  ? 

Shep.  'Twas  one 

At  least  so  call'd,  of  Laius'  family. 

CEdi.  Laius,  who  ruled  at  Thebes  P 

gjjEP^  The  same :  this  man 

Was  shepherd  to  king  Laius. 

CEdi.  hises  he  stilly  986 

And  could  I  see  him  P 

Shep.  [pointing  to  the  Chorus,]  Some  of  these,  per- 
haps. 
His  countrymen,  may  give  you  information. 

CEdi.  [to  the  Chorus.]  O  !  speak,  my  friends!  if  any 
of  you  know 
This  shepherd;  whether  still  he  lives  at  Thebes,    990 
Or  in  some  neighboring  country  ;  tell  me  quick, 
For  it  concerns  us  near. 

CJho.  I*  must  be  he 

Whom  thou  didst  lately  send  for  :  but  the  queen 

079  (Edipus  signifies,  in  the  Greek,    'swelled  foot ;'  taking 
his  name  from  the  sore  and  swelling  of  his  foot. 


(EDIPUS   TYRANNUS.— ACT  IV, 


287 


Can  best  inform  thee. 

CEdi.  Know'st  thou,  my    Jocasla! 

Whether  the  man,  whom  thou  didst  order  hither,  995 
And  whom  the  shepherd  speaks  of,  be  the  same  P 

Joe.  Whom  meant  he?  for  I  know  not.     CEdipus! 
Think  not  so  deeply  of  this  thing, 

CEdi.  Good  Heaven 

Forbid,  Jocasta!  I  should  now  neglect 
To  clear  my  birth,  when  thus  the  path  is  mark'd  1000 
And  open  to  me. 

Joe.  Do  not  by  the  gods 

1  beg  thee,  do  not,  if  thy  life  be  dear. 
Make  farther  search,  for  I  have  felt  enough 
Already  from  it. 

CEdi.  Rest  thou  satisfied  : 

Were  I  descended  from  a  race  of  slaves,  1005 

'Twould  not  dishonor  thee. 

Joe,  Yet  hear  me;  do  not, 

Once  more  I  beg  thee  do  not  search  this  matter. 

CEdi,  I  will  not  be  pursuaded  :  I  must  search, 
And  find  it  too. 

Joe.  I  know  it  best,  and  best 

Advise  thee. 

CEdi.  That  advice  perplexes  more.         1010 

Joe.  O  !  would  to   Heaven   that  thou  majst  never 
know 
Or  who  or  whence  thou  art ! 

CEdi.  [tojhe  attendant.]  Let  some  one  fetch 
That  shepherd  quick,  and  leave  this  woman  here 
To  glory  in  her  high  descent. 

Joe.  Alas ! 

Unhappy  (Edipus !  that  word  alone  1015 

I  now  can  speak  :  rememember/tis  my  last. 

[Exit  Jocasta. 

Cho.  Why  fled  the  queen  in  such  disorder  hence  P 


^1 


288 


SOPHOCLES. 


CEDIPUS   TYRANNUS. — ACT   IV. 


289 


1020 


1025 


Sorely  distressM  she  seem'd,  and  much  I  fear 
Her  silence  bodes  some  sad  event. 

CEdi.  Whatever 

May  come  of  that,  I  am  resolved  to  know 
The  secret  of  my  birth,  how  mean  soever 
It  chance  to  prove  :  perhaps  her  sex's  pride 
May  make  her  blush  to  find  I  was  not  born 
Of  noble  parents  ;  but  I  call  myself 
The  son  of  Fortune,  my  indulgent  mother, 
Whom  I  shall  never  be  ashamed  to  own. 
The  kindred  months,  that  are,  like  me,  her  children  ; 
The  years,  that  roll  obedient  to  her  will,— 
Have  raised  me  from  the  lowest  state  to  power 
And  splendor  ;  wherefore,  being  what  I  am,  1030 

I  need  not  fear  the  knowlege  of  my  birth. 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE. 

If  my  prophetic  soul  doth  well  divine, 

Ere  on  thy  brow  to-morrow's  sun  shall  shine, 

Citharon  !  thou  the  mystery  shalt  unfold  : 
The  doubtful  (Edipus,  no  longer  blind,  1035 

Shall  soon  his  country  and  his  father  find, 
And  all  the  story  of  his  birth  be  told  : 
Then  shall  we  in  grateful  lays. 
Celebrate  our»monarch's  praise  1039 

And   in  the  sprightly    dance  our  songs   triumphant 
raise. 

)^TISTR0PHE. 

What  heavenly  power  gave  birth  to  thee,  O  king? 
From  Pan,  the  god  of  mountains,  didst  thou  spring. 

With  some  fair  daughter  of  Apollo  join'd  ? 
Art  thou  from  him  who  o'er  Cyllene  reigns. 
Swift  Hermes,  sporting  in  Arcadia's  plains  ?  1045 

Some  nymph  of  Helicon  did  Bacchus  find  ; — 


Bacchus,  who  delights  to  rove 
Through  the  forest,  hill,  and  grove. 
And  art  thou,  prince,  the  ofispring  of  their  love? 

Enter  CEdipus,  Shepherd  from  Corinth, 

(Edi.  If  I  may  judge  of  one  whom  yet  I  ne'er    1050 
Had  converse  with,  yon  old  man,  whom  I  see 
This  way  advancing,  must  be  that  same  shepherd 
We  lately  sent  for,  by  his  age  and  mien, 
Ev'n  as  this  stranger  did  describe  him  to  us. 
My  servants  too  are  with  him  ;  but  you  best  1056 

Can  say,  for  you  must  know  him  well. 

Cho.  'Tis  he, 

My  lord  !  the  faithful  shepherd  of  king  Laius. 

CEdi.  [to  the  Shepherd  from  Corinth.'l  What  say'st 
thou,  stranger !  is  it  he  ? 

Shep.  It  is. 

E7iter  Old  Shepherd. 

CEdi.  Now  answer  me,  old  man !  look  this  way  ; 
speak  ; 
Didst  thou  belong  to  Laius  ? 

O.  Shep.  Sir,  I  did :  1060 

No  hireling  slave,  but  in  his  palace  bred, 
I  served  him  long. 

CEdi.  What  was  thy  business  there  f 

O.  Shep.  For  my  life's  better  part  I  tended  sheep. 

GGdi.  And  whither  didst  thou  lead  them  ? 

O.  Shep.  To  Cithaeron, 

And  to  the  neighboring  plains. 

CEdi.  Behold  this  man  ;  1065 

[pointing  to  the  Shepherd  of  Corinth, 
Dost  thou  remember  to  have  seen  him  ? 

O.  Shep.  Whom? 

50PH.  T 


■■•;  >■' 


«•; 


290 


SOPHOCLES. 


What  hath  he  done  ? 

OSdi.  Him  who  now  stands  before  thee  ; — 

Call'st  thou  to  mind  or  converse  or  connexion 
Between  you  in  times  past  P 

O.  Shep.  I  cannot  say 

I  recollect  it  now, 

Shep.  I  do  not  wonder  1070 

He  should  forget  me  ;  but  I  will  recall 
Some  facts  of  ancient  date  :  he  must  remember,   ' 
When  on  Cithaeron  we  together  fed 
Our  several  flocks,  in  daily  converse  join'd. 
From  spring  to  autumn,  and  when  winter  bleak    1075 
Approached,  retired  :  I  to  my  little  cot 
ConveyM  my  sheep,  he  to  the  palace  led 
His  fleecy  care.     Canst  thou  remember  this  ? 

O.  Shep.  I  do,  but  that  is  long  since. 

Shep.  It  is  so  ; 

But  say,  good  shepherd  !  canst  thou  call  to  mind  1080 
An  infant,  whom  thou  didst  deliver  to  me, 
Requesting  me  to  breed  him  as  my  own  ? 

O.  Shep.  Ha  !  wherefore  ask'st  thou  this  ? 

Shep.  [pointing  to  CEdipusJ\  Behold  him  here. 

That  very  child, 

O.  Shep.  O  !  say  it  not ;  away  ! 

Perdition  on  thee ! 

CEdi.  Why  reprove  him  thus  P        1085 

Thou  art  thyself  to  blame,  old  man  ! 

O.  Shep.  In  what 

Am  I  to  blame,  my  lord  ? 

GEdi.  ,      Thou  wilt  not  speak 

Touching  this  boy. 

O.  Shep.  Alas,  poor  man  !  he  knows  not 

What  he  hath  said. 

GSdi.  If  not  by  softer  means 

To  be  persuaded,  force  shall  wring  it  from  thee.     1090 


(EDIPUS  TYRANNUS. — ACT  IV. 


291 


O.  Shep.  Treat  not  an  old  man  harshly. 

CEdi.  [to  the  Attendants,^  Bind  his  hands. 

O.  Shep.  Wherefore,  my  lord  ?  What  wouldst  thou 
have  me  do  P 

CEdi.  That  child  he  talks  of,  didst  thou  give  it  to 
him  ? 

O.  Shep.  I  did,  and  would  to  Heaven  I  then  had 
died! 

CEdi.  Die  soon  thou    shalt,  unless    thou  telPst  it 
all.  1095 

O.  Shep.  Say,  rather,  if  I  do. 

CEdi.  This  fellow  means 

To  trifle  with  us,  by  his  dull  delay. 

O.  Shep.  I  do  not :  said  I  not,  I  gave  the  child  P 

CEdi.  Whence  came  the  boy  P     Was  he  thy  own,  or 
who 
Did  give  him  to  thee  P 

O.  Shep.  From  another  hand        1100 

I  had  received  him. 

CEdi,  Say,  what  hand  P  from  whom  ? 

Whence  came  he  P 

O.  Shep.  Do  not,  by  the  gods  !  I  beg  thee, 

Do  not  inquire. 

CEdi.  Force  me  to  ask  again. 

And  thou  shalt  die. 

O.  Shep,  In  Laius'  palace  born. 

CEdi.  Son  of  a  slave,  or  of  the  king  P 

O.  Shep.  Alas !       1 105 

'Tis  death  for  me  to  speak. 

CEdi.  And  me  to  hear ; 

Yet  say  it. 

O.  Shep.  He  was  calPd  the  son  of  Laius ; 
But  ask  the  queen,  for  she  can  best  inform  thee. 

CEdi.  Did  she  then  give  the  child  to  thee  ? 

O.  Shep.  She  did. 


i 


292 


SOPHOCLES. 


11 


CEdi.  For  what  ? 

O.  Shep.        To  kill  him. 

CEdi.  Kill  her  child  f  Inhuman  lilO 

And  barbarous  mother ! 

O.  Shep.  A  dire  oracle 

Aflfrighted  and  constrained  her  to  it. 

(Edi.  Ha! 

What  oracle?  ^_,    , 

O.  Shep.  Which  said,  her  son  should  slay 

His  parents.  . 

OEdi.  Wherefore  gavest  thou  then  the  infant 

To  this  old  shepherd  ? 

O,  Shep.  Pity  moved  me  to  it :        11 15 

I  hoped  he  would  have  soon  convey'd  his  charge 
To  some  far-distant  country  :  he,  alas ! 
Preserved  him  but  for  misery  and  wo  ; 
For,  O  my  lord !  if  thou  indeed  art  he, 
Thou  art  of  all  mankind  the  most  unhappy.  1120 

(Edi.  O  me  !  at  length  the  mystery  *s  unravell'd: 
Tis  plain  ;  'tis  clear ;  my  fate  is  all  determined. 
Those  are  ray  parents  who  should  not  have  been 
Allied  to  me :  she  is  my  wife,  ev'n  she, 
Whom  nature  had  forbidden  me  to  wed  :  1125 

I  have  slain  him  who  gave  me  life,  and  now 
Of  thee,  O  light!  I  take  my  last  farewell, 
For  (Edipus  shall  ne'er  behold  thee  more,        [Exeunt, 


chorus, 
strophe  I. 
O,  hapless  state  of  human  race  ! 
How  quick  the  fleeting  shadows  pass 
Of  transitory  bliss  below. 
Where  all  is  vanity  and  wo ! 
By  thy  example  taught,  O  prince  !  we  see 
Man  was  not  made  for  true  felicity. 


1130 


(EDIPUS   TYRANNUS. — ACT   V. 


293 


ANTISTROPHE   I. 

Thou,  CEdipus  !  beyond  the  rest  1135 

Of  mortals  wert  supremely  bless'd  ; 

Whom  every  hand  conspired  to  raise, 

Whom  every  hand  rejoiced  to  praise  ; 
When  from  the  sphinx  thy  all-preserving  hand 
Stretch'd  forth  its  aid  to  save  a  sinking  land.         1140 

STROPHE   n. 

Thy  virtues  raised  thee  to  a  throne. 
And  grateful  Thebes  was  all  thy  own  : 
Alas  !  how  changed  that  glorious  name  ! 
Lost  are  thy  virtues  and  thy  fame. 
How  couldst  thou  thus  pollute  thy  father's  bed  ?    1145 
How  couldst  thou  thus  thy  hapless  mother  wed  ? 

ANTISTROPHE    II. 

How  could  that  bed  unconscious  bear 

So  long  the  vile,  incestuous  pair? 

But  Time,  of  quick  and  piercing  sight. 

Hath  brought  the  horrid  deed  to  light :  1 150 

At  length  Jocasta  owns  her  guilty  flame, 
And  finds  a  husband  and  a  child  the  same. 

EPODE. 

Wretched  son  of  Laius  !  thee 

Henceforth  may  I  never  see  ; 

But  absent  shed  the  pious  tear,  1155 

And  weep  thy  fate  with  grief  sincere  ! 
For  thou  didst  raise  our  eyes  to  life  and  light. 
To  close  them  now  in  everlasting  night.  [Exetmt, 


'      '  ;''J 

i  i 


ACT  V. 

Messenger,  Chorus. 
Mes.  Sages  of  Thebes,  most  honor'd  and  revered  ! 
If  e'er  the  house  of  Labdacus  was  dear  ^  1180 


294 


SOPHOCLES. 


And  precioas  to  you,  what  will  be  your  grief, 

WbeD  I  shall  tell  the  most  disastrous  tale 

You  ever  heard,  and  to  your  eyes  present 

A  spectacle  more  dreadful  than  they  yet 

Did  e'er  behold?  Not  the  wide  Danube's  waves,  1165 

Nor  Phasis'  stream,  can  wash  away  the  stains 

Of  this  polluted  palace.     The  dire  crimes, 

Long  time  conceard,  at  length  are  brought  to  light ; 

But  those  which  spring  from  voluntary  guilt 

Are  still  more  dreadful. 

Cho.  Nothing  can  be  worse     1170 

Than  what  we  know  already;  bring'st  thou  more 
Misfortunes  to  us  ? 

Mes.  To  be  brief,  the  queen, 

Jocasta,  *s  dead. 

Cho.  Say,  by  what  hand  ? 

Mes.  Her  own ; 

And,  what 's  more  dreadful,  no  one  saw  the  deed  ; 
What  I  myself  beheld,  you  all  shall  hear.  1176 

Inflamed  with  rage,  soon  as  she  reach'd  the  palace, 
Instant  retiring  to  the  nuptial  bed. 
She  shut  the  door,  then  raved  and  tore  her  hair, 
Called  out  on  Laius  dead,  and  bade  him  think 
On  that  unhappy  son  who  murderM  him,  1180 

And  stain'd  his  bed  :  then,  turning  her  sad  eyes 
Upon  the  guilty  couch,  she  cursed  the  place 
Where  she  had  borne  a  husband  from  her  husband, 
And  children  from  her  child  :  what  foUowM  then 
I  know  not,  by  the  cries  of  CEdipus  1185 

Prevented,  for  on  him  our  eyes  were  fix'd 
Attentive  :  forth  he  came,  beseeching  us 
To  lend  him  some  sharp  weapon,  and  inform  him 

1165  The  Ister  or  Danube  is  one  of  the  most  considerable 
rivers  in  Europe  ;  which,  passing  by  Illyricum,  runs  into  the 
Euxine  sea.    Fbasis  was  a  famous  river  in  Colchis. 


(EDIPUS   TYRANNUS. — ACT   V. 


295 


1190 


1196 


1200 


Where  he  might  find  his  mother  and  his  wife  ; 
His  children's  wretched  mother,  and  his  own. 
Some  ill-designing  power  did  then  direct  him 
(For  we  were  silent)  to  the  queen's  apartment : 
Forcing  the  bolt,  he  rush'd  unto  the  bed. 
And  found  Jocasta,  where  we  all  beheld  her, 
Entangled  in  the  fatal  noose ;  which,  soon 
As  he  perceived,  loosing  the  pendent  rope. 
Deeply  he  groan'd  ;  and,  casting  on  the  ground 
His  wretched  body,  show'd  a  piteous  sight 
To  the  beholders.    On  a  sudden  thence 
Starting,  he  pluck'd  from  off  the  robe  she  wore 
A  golden  buckle,  that  adorn'd  her  side. 
And  buried  in  his  eyes  the  sharpen'd  point, 
Crying,  he  ne'er  again  would  look  on  her. 
Never  would  see  his  crimes  or  miseries  more. 
Or  those  whom,  guiltless,  he  could  ne'er  behold,  1205 
Or  those  to  whom  he  now  must  sue  for  aid. 
His  lifted  eye-lids  then,  repeating  still 
These  dreadful  plaints,  be  tore ;  whilst  down  his  cheeks 
Fell  showers  of  blood  :  such  fate  the  wretched  pair 
Sustain'd,  partakers  in  calamity  ;  1210 

Fallen  from  a  state  of  happiness,  (for  none 
Were  happier  once  than  they)  to  groans  and  death, 
Reproach,  and  shame,  and  every  human  wo. 
Cho.  And  where  is  now  the  poor,  unhappy  man  ? 
Mes.    *  Open  the   doors,'  he    cries,  '  and  let  all 
Thebes 
Behold  his  parents'  murderer  V  adding  words 
Not  to  be  uttered  :  banish'd  now,  he  says, 
He  must  be,  nor,  devoted  as  he  is 
By  his  own  curse,  remain  in  this  sad  place. 
He  wants  a  kind  conductor,  and  a  friend 
To  help  him  now,  for  'tis  too  much  to  bear. 
But  you  will  see  him  soon ;  for,  lo !  the  doors 


1215 


1220 


t       ». 


196 


SOPHOCLES. 


Are  open'd,  and  you  will  behold  a  sight 
That  would  to  pity  move  his  deadliest  foe. 

Enter  CEdipus. 

Cho.  O  horrid  sight !  more  dreadful  spectacle  '  1225 
Than  e'er  these  eyes  beheld  !    What  madness  urged 

thee 
To  this  sad  deed?    What  power  malignant  heap'd  ] 
On  thy  poor  head  such  complicated  wo  P 
Unhappy  man  \    Alas  !  I  would  have  held 
Some  converse  with  thee,  but  thy  looks  afright  me  : 
I  cannot  bear  to  speak  to  thee. 

(Edi.  O  me !  1231 

Where  am  I,  and  whence  comes  the  voice  I  hear  ? 
Where  art  thou,  fortune  ? 

Cho.  Changed  to  misery, 

Dreadful  to  hear,  and  dreadful  to  behold. 

CEdi.  O  cruel  darkness  !  endless,  hopeless,  night ; 
Shame,  terrors,  and  unutterable  wo !  1236 

More  painful  is  the  memory  of  my  crimes 
Than  all  the  wounds  my  wild  distraction  made. 

Cho.  Thus  doubly  cursed,  O  prince  !  I  wonder  not 
At  thy  affliction. 

QSdi.  Art  thou  here,  my  friend  ?      1240 

I  know  thy  voice :  thou  wouldst  not  leave  the  wretched ; 
Thou  art  my  faithful,  kind  assistant  still. 

Cho.  How  couldst  thou  thus  deprive  thyself  of  sight  ? 
What  madness  drove  thee  to  the  desperate  deed  ? 
What  god  inspired  ? 

(£di.  Apollo  was  the  cause ;        1245 

He  was,  ray  friends  I  the  cause  of  all  my  woes  ; 
Bat  for  these  eyes,  myself  did  quench  their  light ; 

1245  By  delivering  the  oracle,  which  foretold  that  (Edipus 
should  kill  his  father,  and  afterwardB  pronouncing  the  dread- 
ful  sentence  against  the  murderer. 


(EDIPUS   TYRANNUS. — ACT  IV. 


297 


1  want  not  them.  What  use  were  they  to  me, 
But  to  discover  scenes  of  endless  wo  ? 

Cho.  'Tis  but  too  true. 

CEm.  What  pleasure  now  remains  1250 

For  GBdipus  ?     He  cannot  joy  in  aught 
To  sight  or  ear  delightful.    Curse  on  him, 
Whoe'er  he  was,  that  loosen'd  my  bound  feet. 
And  saved  me,  in  Cithaeron's  vale,' from  death  ! 
I  owe  him  nothing  ;  had  I  perish'd  then,  1255 

Much  happier  had  it  been  for  you,  my  friends! 
And  for  myself. 

Cho.  I  too  could  wish  thou  hadst. 

CEdi.  I  should  not  then  have  murdered  Laius ;  then 
I  had  not  taken  Jocasta  to  my  bed  ; 
But  now  I  am  a  guilty  wretch,  the  son  1260 

Of  a  polluted  mother,  father  now 
To  my  own  brother  :  all  that 's  horrible 
To  nature  is  the  lot  of  CEdipus. 

Cho.  Yet  must  I  blame  this  cruel  act ;  for,  sure, 
The  loss  of  sight  is  worse  than  death  itself.  1265 

GEdi.  I  care  not  for  thy  counsel  or  thy  praise  ; 
For  with  what  eyes  could  I  have  e'er  beheld 
My  honer'd  father  in  the  shades  below, 
Or  my  unhappy  mother,  both  destroy'd 
By  me?    This  punismentis  worse  than  death. 
And  so  it  should  be.     Sweet  had  been  the  sight 
Of  my  dear  children  :  them  I  could  have  wish'd 
To  gaze  on  ;  but  I  must  never  see. 
Or  them,  or  this  fair  city,  or  the  palace 
Where  I  was  born  :  deprived  of  every  bliss 
By  my  own  lips,  which  doom'd  to  banishment 
The  murderer  of  Laius,  and  expell'd 
The  impious  wretch,  by  gods  and  men  accursed ; — 
Could  I  behold  them  after  this  ?    O,  no. 
Would  I  could  now  with  equal  ease  remove  1280 


1270 


1275 


296 


SOPHOCLES. 


1285 


My  hearing  too,  be  deaf  as  well  as  blind, 

And  from  another  entrance  shut  out  wo  ! 

To  want  our  senses,  in  the  hour  of  ill, 

Is  comfort  to  the  wretched.     O  Cithaeron  ! 

Why  didst  thou  e*er  receive  rae,  or,  received, 

Why  not  destroy,  that  men  might  never  know 

Who  gave  me  birth  ?     O  Polybus  !  O  Corinth  ! 

And  thou,  long  time  believed  my  father's  palace ! 

O  !  what  a  foul  disgrace  to  human  nature 

Didst  thou  receive  beneath  a  prince's  form  !  1290 

Impious  myself,  and  from  an  irapious'race. 

Where  is  my  splendor  now  ?     O  Daulian  path  ! 

The  shady  forest,  and  the  narrow  pass 

Where  three  ways  meet,  who  drank  a  father's  blood. 

Shed  by  these  hands ;  do  you  not  still  remember  1295 

The  horrid  deed,  and  what,  when  here  I  came, 

Follow'd  more  dreadful  ?     Fatal  nuptials  !  you 

Produced  me,  you  return'd  me  to  the  womb 

That  bare  me  ;  thence  relations  horrible 

Of  fathers,  sons,  and  brothers  came  ;  of  wives, 

Sisters,  and  mothers,  sad  alliance  !  all 

That  man  holds  impious  and  detestable. 

But  what  in  act  is  vile,  the  modest  tongue 

Should  never  name.     Bury  me,  hide  me,  friends  ! 

From  every  eye ;  destroy  me,  cast  me  forth  1305 

To  the  wide  ocean  ;  let  me  perish  there ; 

Do  any  thing  to  shake  off  hated  life : 

Seize  me  ;  approach,  my  friends  !  yoo  need  not  fear, 

Polluted  though  I  am,  to  touch  me  !    N  one 

Shall  suffer  for  my  crimes  but  I  alone.  1310 

1288  That  is,  the  palace  of  Polybus,  king  of  Corinth,  the 
supposed  father  of  (Edipus,  who  brought  him  up  as  his  own, 
and  educated  him  accordingly. 

1308  Alluding  to  a  superstitious  notion  amongst  the  an- 
cients, that  it  was  dangerous  even  to  touch  [an  accursed  per- 
ion,  or  one  seemingly  visited  with  misfortunes  by  the  gods. 


1300 


(EDIPUS   TYRANNUS. — ACT    V. 


199 


Cho.  In  most  fit  time,  my  lord  !  the  noble  Creon 
This  way  advances  :  he  can  best  determine, 
And  best  advise  ;  sole  guardian  now  of  Thebes, 
To  him  thy  power  devolves. 

CEdi.  What  shall  I  say  ? 

Can  I  apply  to  him  for  aid,  whom  late  1315 

I  deeply  injured  by  unjust  suspicion? 

[JE?x»*  Messenger. 

Enter  Creon. 

Cre.  I  come  not,  prince !  to  triumph  o'er  thy  woes 
With  vile  reproach  ;  I  pity  thy  misfortunes  : 
But,  O  my  Thebans  !  if  you  do  not  fear 
The  censure  of  your  fellow-citizens,  1320 

At  least  respect  the  all-creating  eye 
Of  Phoebus,  who  beholds  you  thus  exposing 
To  public  view  a  wretch  accursed,  polluted. 
Whom  neither  earth  can  bear,  nor  sun  behold. 
Nor  holy  shower  besprinkle.     Take  him  hence,     1325 
Within  the  palace  :  those,  who  are  by  blood 
United,  should  alone  be  witnesses 
Of  such  calamity. 

CEdi.  O  Creon  !  thou, 

The  best  of  men,  and  I,  the  worst ;  how  kind 
Thou  art  to  visit  me  !  O  !  by  the  gods  !  1330 

Let  me  intreat  thee,  since,  beyond  my  hopes. 
Thou  art  so  good,  now  hear  me :  what  I  ask 
Concerns  thee  most. 

Cre.  What  is  it  thou  desirest 

Thus  ardently  ? 

(Edi.  I  beg  thee,  banish  me  ^ 

From  Thebes  this  moment,  to  some  land  remote,  1335 
Where  I  may  ne'er  converse  with  man  again. 

Crf.  Myself  long  since  had  done  it,  but  the  gods 
Must  be  consulted  first.  f 

CEdi.  Their  will  is  known 


300 


SOPHOCLES. 


/ 


Already,  and  their  oracle  declared 
The  guilty  parricide  should  die. 

Crk.  •  It  hath;  1340 

But,  as  it  is,  'twere  better  to  inquire 
What  must  be  done. 

CEdi.  For  such  a  wretch  as  I, 

Wouldst  thou  again  explore  the  will  of  Heaven  ? 

Cre.  Thy  hapless  fate  should  teach  us  to  believe 
And  reverence  the  gods. 

CEdi.  Now,  Creon !  list;         1345 

I  beg  thee,  I  conjure  thee,  let  a  tomb 
Be  raised,  and  all  due  honors  paid  to  her 
Who  lies  within  :  she  was  thy  sister,  Creon  ! 
It  is  a  duty  which  thou  owest :  for  me, 
I  cannot  hope  this  city  now  will  deign  1350 

To  keep  me  here.     O  Creon  !  let  me  go. 
And  seek  the  solitary  mountain's  top. 
My  own  Cithaeron,  by  my  parents  doom'd 
Long  since  to  be  the  grave  of  CEdipus : 
There  would  I  die,  as  they  decreed  I  should.         1355 
Alas  !  I  cannot,  must  not  perish  yet, 
Till  I  have  suflfer'd  evils  worse  than  death, 
For  I  was  only  saved  to  be  unhappy  : 
But  I  must  meet  my  fate  whatever  it  be. 
My  sons  are  men,  and,  wheresoever  fortune  136*0 

May  place  them,  cannot  want  the  means  of  life  : 
They  shall  not  burden  thee  ;  but,  O  my  friend  ! 
What  will  become  of  my  unhappy  daughters. 
With  tenderest  love,  beneath  a  father's  hand 
Cherish'd  so  long  ?    O !  take  them  to  thy  care,      1365 
Thou  best  of  men  !     O !  might  I  but  embrace  them, 
But  shed  a  tear  o'er  their  disastrous  fate; 
Might  I  be  suflfer'd  but  to  touch  them  here  ; — 
I  shoul  rejoice,  and  think  I  saw  them  still. 
But,  hark  !  methinks  e'en  now  I  hear  the  voice     1370 


CEDIPUS  TYRANNUS. — ACT  V.  301 

Of  my  dear  daughters.    Hath  the  gracious  Creon^ 
In  pity  to  my  woes,  already  brought 
My  children  to  me  ?    Is  it  so  ? 

Cre.  It  is : 

Thy  wishes  are  prevented  ;  they  are  here. 

Enter  Daughters  of  CEdipus. 

CEdi.  May  Heaven  reward  thee  for  this  goodness 
to  me,  1375 

And  give  thee  much  more  bliss  than  I  have  known ! 
Now,  my  dear  children  !  come  towards  me,  come 

Towards  your  father  and  your brother ;  see 

These  sightless  eyes,  pierced  by  my  own  mad  hands ; 
Behold  that  wretched  father  who  begat  you  1380 

Unknowingly  on  her  who  gave  me  birth. 
I  cannot  see  you  now  ;  I  can  but  weep 
Your  fate,  to  think  what  hours  of  wretchedness 
You  have  to  know  hereafter.    Whither  now 
Must  my  poor  children  fly  ?    From  every  feast,     1385 
Joyless,  with  grief  and  shame,  shall  you  return ; 
And  when  the  time  shall  come,  when  riper  years 
Should  give  you  to  the  nuptial  bed,  who  then, 
Careless  of  fame,  will  let  his  child  partake 
The  infamy  of  my  abhorred  race,  1390 

Sprung  from  a  wretch  accursed,  who  kill'd  his  fa- 
ther, 
And  from  the  womb  that  bare  him  did  beget 
You,  my  unhappy  daughters  ?    Such  reproach 
Must  still  be  yours,  to  virgin  solitude 
Devoted  ever,  and  a  barren  bed.  1395 

Son  of  Menoeceus  !  thou  alone  art  left 
Their  father  now  ;  for,  O  !  Jocasta  's  dead, 

And  I  am nothing :  do  not  then  forsake 

Thy  kindred ;  nor,  deserted  and  forlorn. 

Suffer  them  still,  in  penury  and  wo,  1400 


,y 


H 


sm 


SOPHOCLES. 


To  wander  helpless,  in  their  tender  age. 
Remember,  they  have  no  support  but  thee. 

0  generous  prince  !  have  pity  on  them  ;  give  me 
Thy  friendly  hand  in  promise  of  thy  aid. 

To  you,  my  daughters !  had  your  early  years         1405 

Permitted,  I  had  given  my  last  advice  : 

Too  young  for  counsel,  all  I  ask  of  you. 

Is  but  to  pray  the  gods  that  my  sad  life 

May  not  be  long  ;  but  yours,  my  children  !  crown*d 

With  many  days,  and  happier  far  than  mine.        1410 

Cre.  It  is  enough  ;  go  in  ;  thy  grief  transports  thee 
Beyond  all  bounds. 

CEd!.  'Tis  hard,  but  I  submit. 

Cre.  The  time  demands  it ;  therefore  go. 

(Edi.  O  Creon ! 

Know'st  thou  what  now  I  wish  ? 

Cre.  What  is  it?    Speak. 

CEdi.  That  I  may  quit  this  fatal  place. 

Cr£^  Thou  ask'st 

What  Heaven  alone  can  grant. 

OSdi.  Alas!  to  Heaven  1416 

1  am  most  hateful. 
Cre. 

What  thou  desirest. 

(Edi. 

Cre. 
I  never  say  aught  that  I  do  not  mean. 

CEdi.  Then  let  me  go  :  may  I  depart  ? 

Cre.  Thou  mayst ; 

But  leave  thy  children. 

(Edi.  Do  not  take  them  from  me. 

Cre.  Thou  must  not  always  have  thy  will ;  already 
Thou  hast  suflFer'd  for  it. 

Cho.  Thebans !  now  behold 

The  great,  the  mighty  CEdipus,  who  once 


Yet  shalt  tliou  obtain 


Shall  I  indeed  ? 


Thou  shalt  ; 
1419 


-.  iEDlPUS  TYRANNUS. — ACT   V.  303 

The  sphinx's  dark  enigma  could  unfold;  1435 

Who  less  to  fortune  than  to  wisdom  own*d  ; 

In  virtue,  as  in  rank,  to  all  superior; 

Yet  fallen  at  last  to  deepest  misery. 

Let  mortals,  hence,  be  taught  to  look  beyond 

The  present  time,  nor  dare  to  say  a  man  1430 

Is  happy,  till  the  last  decisive  hour 

Shall  close  his  life  without  the  taste  of  wo. 


'   C 

t  i 


i 


H 


II 


m 


CEDIPUS   COLONEUS. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS, 

CEdipus.       ) 

Creon. 

Antigone,    )  daughters  of  (Edipus. 

ISMENE,  ' 

PoLYNiCES,  son  of  (Edipus. 

Theseds,  king  of  Athens> 

An  Athenian. 

Messenger. 

Attendants  on  Creon,  Theseus,  and  Ismene. 

Chorus,  composed  of  ancient  men  of  Thebes, 


ARGUMENT. 

This  tragedy  is  a  continuation  of  the  history  of  CEdipus  ;  who, 
condemned  to  perpetual  banishment  from  Thebes,  arrived 
at  last,  with  his  daughter  Antigone,  at  Colonus,  a  little  hiU 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Athens,  sacred  to  the  Furies,  where 
he  solicited  and  obtained  the  protection  of  king  Theseus. 
In  this  retreat  he  was  overtaken  by  his  daughter  Ismene. 
In  the  mean  time,  Creon,  having  learned  from  the  oracle 
that  prosperity  awaited  the  country  which  should  possess 
the  bones  of  CEdipus,  endeavoured  to  remove  him  by  m- 
treaty  or  force  ;  but  the  power  of  Theseus  soon  compeUed 
him  to  relinquish  the  attempt.  At  this  juncture  Polymccs 
arrived,  with  the  design  of  reconciling  his  father  to  his  in- 
tended  invasion  of  Thebes ;  but  the  exiled  monarch  uttered 
the  bitterest  imprecations  on  his  impious  purpose,  and  pro- 
phesied the  horrible  fate  which  awaited  him.  Finding  his 
«id  fast  approaching,  he  sent  for  Theseus,  and  informed 
him  that  an  uninterrupted  course  of  prosperity  would  betail 
Athens  so  long  as  his  burial-place  was  revealed  to  no  one 
but  the  reigning  monarch  of  the  country.  Having  then  dis- 
missed his  daughters,  and  being  left  alone  with  Theseus 
he  resigned  himself  to  his  fate ;  while  the  king  faithfully 
compUed  with  his  injunptious  of  concealing  the  circumstances 
of  his  death  and  interment. 


ACT  I. 

Scene  a  grove,  at  the  entrance  to  the  temple  of  the  Furies, 

(EDIPUS,   ANTIGONE. 

CEdi.  Where  are  we  now,  my  dear  Antigone  ? 
Know'st  thou  the  palace  ?    Will  any  here  afford 


308 


SOPtlOCLBS. 


Their  scanty  alms  to  a  poor  wanderer, 

The  banish'd  CEdipus  ?     I  ask  not  much, 

Yet  less  receiye  ;  but  I  am  satisfied  :  6 

Long  time  hath  made  my  woes  familiar  to  me, 

And  I  have  learn'd  to  bear  calamity. 

But  tell  me,  daughter  !  if  thou  seest  a  place 

Or  sacred,  or  profane,  where  I  may  rest : 

There  set  me  down ;  from  some  inhabitant  10 

A  chance  but  we  may  learn  where  now  we  are, 

And  act  (so  strangers  ought)  as  he  directs  us. 

Ant.  O,  CEdipus  !  my  poor,  unhappy  father  ! 
Far  as  my  eyes  can  reach,  I  see  a  city. 
With  lofty  turrets  crown'd  ;  and,  if  I  err  not,  15 

This  place  is  sacred,  by  the  laurel  shade 
Olive  and  vine  thick  planted,  and  the  songs 
Of  nightingale  sweet  warbling  through  the  grove. 
Here  sit  thee  down,  and  rest  thy  wearied  limbs 
On  this  rude  stone ;  'tis  a  long^way^for  age  20 

Like  thine  to  travel. 

CEdi.  Place  me  here,  and  guard 

A  sightless  wretch. 

Ant.  Alas !  at  such  a  time 

Thou  need*st  not  tell  Antigone  her  duty. 

CEdi.  Know'st  thou  not  where  we  are  ? 

Ant.  As  I  have  learn 'd 

From  passing  travellers,  not  far  from  Athens  ;  25 

The  place  J.  know  not.    Would  you  that  I  go, 
And  straight  inquire?     But  now  I  need  not  leave 

thee, 
For,  lo  !  a  stranger  comes  this  way  ;  ev'n  now 
He  stands  before  you  :  he  will  soon  inform  us. 

Enter  an  Athenian. 

(£du  Stranger !  thou  comest  in  happy  hour  to  tell 

us  30 

What  much  we  wish  to  know ;  let  me  then  ask  thee— - 


CEDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT   1. 


309 


Ath.    Ask   nothing;    speak  not  till  thou  art  re- 
moved 
From  off  that  hallow'd  spot  where  now  thou  stand'st. 
By  human  footsteps  not  to  be  profaned, 

CEdi.  To  whom  then  is  it  sacred  ? 

Ath.  'Tis  a  place,      35 

Where  but  to  tread  is  impious,  and  to  dwell 
Forbidden;  where  the  dreadful  goddesses, 
Daughters  of  Earth  and  Night,  alone  inhabit. 

CEdi.  Ha !  let  me  hear  their  venerable  names. 

Ath.  By  other  names  in  other  climes  adored,       40 
The  natives  here  call  them  Eumenides, 
The  all-seeing  Powers. 

CEdi.  O  !  that  they  would  but  smile 

Propitious,  and  receive  a  suppliant's  prayer, 
That  I  might  never  leave  this  bless'd  abode  ! 

Ath.  What  dost  thou  mean  ? 

GEdi.  It  suits  my  sorrows  well.  45 

Ath.  I  must  inform  the  citizens  ;  till  then 
Remain. 

CEdi.  O  !  do  not  scorn  a  wretched  exile. 
But  tell  me,  stranger ! 

Ath.  Speak  ;  I  scorn  thee  not. 

CEdi.  What  place  is  this  ? 

Ath,  I 'II  tell  thee  what  I  know. 

This  place  is  sacred  all ;  great  Neptune  here  60 

Presides,  and  he  who  bears  the  living  fire, 
Titan  Prometheus  ;  where  thou  tread'st,  is  called 

37  These  dreadful  goddesses  were  the  three  Furies,  Alecto, 
Megsera,  and  Tisiphone. 

52  Prometheus,  according  to  the  tales  of  the  heathens  con- 
cerning him,  was  supposed  to  have  stolen  fire  from  heaven, 
and  with  it  to  have  made  men ;  for  which  impiety  he  was 
punished  by  the  gods  in  the  same  manner  as  the  rebellious 
Titans :  he  is  therefore  called,  in  this  place,  Titan  Prome- 
theus. 


m 


'^i 


310 


SOPHOCLES. 


The  brazen  way,  the  bulwark  of  our  state  : 

From  this  equestrian  hill,  their  safest  guard, 

The  neighboring  villagers  their  general  name  66 

Derive,  thence  caird  Colonians  all. 

CEdi.  But  say, 

Are  there,  who  dwell  here  then  ? 

Ath.  There  arc,  and  calFd 

From  him  they  worship. 

CEdi.  Is  the  power  supreme 

Lodged  in  the  people's  voice,  or  in  the  king  ? 

Ath.  'Tis  in  the  king. 

CEdi.  Who  is  he? 

Ath.  Theseus,  son  60 

Of  ^geus,  their  last  sovereign. 

CEdi.  Who  will  go 

And  tell  him 

Ath.  What,  to  come  and  meet  thee  here? 

CEdf.  To  tell  him  that  a  little  help  bestow'd 
Would  amply  be  repaid. 

Ath.  Why,  what  couldst  thou  do, 

Dark  as  thou  art  ? 

CEdi.  My  words  will  not  be  so.  65 

Ath.    Then   mark   me,   that  thou  err  not;    for  to 
me 
Thy  fortune  seems  ill-suited  to  thy  nature. 
Which  is  most  noble  ;  therefore  stay  thou  here 
Till  I  return  ;  I  will  not  go  to  Athens, 
But  ask  these  villagers,  who  sojourn  here,  70 

If  thou  mayst  stay.  [Exit  Athenian. 

CEdi.  My  daughter  !  is  he  gone  ? 

Ant.  He  is,  and  thou  mayst  safely  speak,  for  I 

63  Near  this  brazen  way  was  supposed  to  be  the  passage  to 
Hades,  or  the  shades,  by  which  Pluto  conveyed  the  ravished 
Proserpine  to  his  dominions. 


CEDIPUS   COLONEUS.— ACT  I. 


311 


Alone  am  with  thee. 

(-gjj,  Goddesses  revered ! 

Since  in  your  seats  my  wearied  steps  have  found 

Their  first  repose,  not  inauspicious  smile 

On  Phoebus  and  on  me !     For,  know,  the  god, 

Who  'gainst  unhappy  CEdipus  denounced 

Unnumber'd  woes,  foretold  that  here  at  last 

I  should  have  rest,  within  this  hallow'd  grove, 

These  hospitable  shades,  and  finish  here 

A  life  of  misery.    *  Happy  those,'  he  said, 

'  Who  should  receive  me,  glorious  their  reward  ; 

And  wo  to  them  who  strove  to  drive  me  hence 

Inhuman  :  this  he  promised  to  confirm 

By  signs  undoubted  ;  thunder,  or  the  sound 

Of  dreadful  earthquake,  or  the  lightning  s  blast 

Launcb'd  from  the  arm  of  Jove  :  I  doubt  it  not. 

From  you  some  happy  omen  hither  led 

My  prosperous  steps.    That  first  to  you  I  came 

Pure  to  the  pure,  and  here  on  this  rude  seat 

Reposed  me,  could  not  be  the  work  of  chance. 

Wherefore,  ye  Powers!   as  Poebus  hath  decreed, 

Here  let  me  find  a  period  of  my  woes. 

Here  end  my  wretched  life  ;  unless  the  man, 

Who  lotig  hath  groan'd  beneath  the  bitterest  ills 

That  mortals  feel,  still  seem  to  merit  more. 

Daughters  of  ancient  Night !  O,  hear  me  now ! 

And  thou,  from  great  Minerva  call'd,  the  best 

And  noblest  city,  Athens !  pity  me  ; 

Pity  the  shadow  of  poor  CEdipus ! 

For  O  !  I  am  not  what  I  was. 

Ant.  No  more ; 

Behold,  a  venerable  band  approach 
Of  ancient  natives,  come  perchance  to  seek  thee. 

CEdi.  I've  done  ;  Antigone!  remove  me  hence. 
And  hide  me  in  the  grove,  till,  by  their  words. 


75 


i 


80 


86 


90 


95 


100 


m 


105 


312 


SOPHOCLES. 


Listening  I  learn  their  purpose  ;  such  foreknowlege 
Will  best  direct  us  how  to  act  hereafter.  [Exeunt, 

Enter  Chorus. 
Cho.  Where  is  he  ?    Look,  examine,  search  around 
For  this  abandon'd  exile,  of  mankind 
The  most  profane,  doubtless  some  wretched  stranger : 
Who  else  had  dared  on  this  forbidden  soil  111 

To  tread,  where  dwell  the  dreadful  deities 
We  tremble  ev'n  to  name  ;  and  as  we  pass, 
Dare  not  behold,  but  silently  revere. 
Or  soft  with  words  of  fairest  omen  greet  ?  115 

Of  these  regardless,  here  we  come  to  find 
An  impious  wretch.     I  look  around  the  grove, 
But  still  he  lurks  unseen. 

Enter  CEdipus,  Antigone. 

^i>i.  Behold  me  here  ; 

For  by  your  words  I  find  you  look  for  me. 

Cho.     [looking  stedfasthj  at  him,']       Dreadful   his 
voice,  and  terrible  his  aspect !  120 

(Edi.  I  am  no  outlaw  ;  do  not  look  thus  on  me. 

Cho.  Jove  the  defender !  Who  is  this  old  man  ? 

(Edi.  One  on  whom  Fortune  little  hath  bestow'd 
To  call  for  reverence  from  you  ;  that,  alas  ; 
Is  but  too  plain  ;  thus  by  another's  eyes  125 

Conducted  here,  and  on  her  aid  depending. 
Old  as  I  am. 

Cho.  Alas !  and  wert  thou  born 

Thus  sightless  ?     Full  of  sorrow  and  of  years 
Indeed  thou  seem'st ;  but  do  not  let  on  us 
Thy  curse  devolve:  thou  hast  trangress'd  the  bounds 
Prescribed  to  mortals  :  shun  this  hallow'd  grove,  131 
Where,  on  the  grassy  surface,  to  the  powers 
A  welcome  offering  flows,  with  honey  mixed, 


CEDIPUS  COLONEUS. — ACT   I. 


313 


135 


The  limpid  stream  ;  unhappy  stranger !  hence, 
Away,  begone  :  thou  seest  'tis  a  long  space 
Divides  us.     Dost  thou  hear  me,  wretched  exile  ? 
This  instant,  if  thou  dost,  depart ;  then  speak, 
But  not  before. 

CEdi.  Antigone,  my  daughter  ! 

What's  to  be  done? 

Ant.  Obey  the  citizens  ; 

Give  me  thy  hand. 

(Edi.  I  will ;  and  now,  my  friends  !  140 

Confiding  thus  in  you,  aud  thus  removing. 
As  you  directed,  let  me  not  be  injured. 

Cho.  Thou  shalt  not :  be  assured,  that  thou  art  safe  ; 
None  shall  oflFend  or  drive  thee  hence. 

CEdi.  Yet  more 

Must  I  approach  ? 

Cho.  a  little  farther  still.  145 

(Edi.  Will  this  suffice  ? 

Cho.  Remove  him  this  way,  virgin  ! 

Thou  hear'st  us. 

Ant.  Thou  must  follow  me,  my  father  ! 

Weak  as  thou  art :  we  are  unhappy  strangers, 
And  must  submit :  whate'er  the  city  hates 
Content  to  hate,  and  what  she  loves  to  love.  150 

(Edi.  Lead  me,  my  daughter  !  to  some  hallow'd  spot 
For  mutual  converse  fit,  nor  let  us  strive 
With  dire  necessity. 

Cho.  Stop  there,  nor  move 

Beyond  that  stone. 

(Edi.  Thus  then  P 

Cho.  It  is  enough. 

(Edi.  Where  shall  I  sit  ? 

Cho.  a  little  forward  lean     155 

And  rest  thee  there.  [taking  hold  of  him. 

Ant.  Alas !  'tis  my  sad  office 


dl4 


SOPHOCLES. 


m 


(Let  me  perform  it)  to  direct  thy  steps  ; 

To  this  loved  hand  commit  thy  aged  limbs  : 

I  will  be  careful.  [she  seats  him  on  a  stone* 

CEoi.  O  aohappy  state  ! 

Cho.  Now  wretched  stranger !  tell  us  who  thou  art, 
Thy  country  and  thy  name. 

^Di.                                          Alas,  my  lords !         161 
A  poor,  abandonM  exile  ;  but,  O  !  do  not 

Cho.  What  say'st  thou  ? 

CEdi.  Do  not  ask  me  who  I  am  ; 

Inquire  no  farther. 

Cho.  Wherefore  ? 

CEdi.  My  sad  race 

Cho.  Speak  on. 

QSdi.  [turning  to  Antigone.']  My  daughter!  how  shall 
I  proceed  ?  165 

Cho.  Thy  race,  thy  father— 

CEdi.  O  Antigone ! 

WhatdoIsuflFer? 

Ant.  Speak,  thou  canst  not  be 

More  wretched  than  thou  art. 

CEdi.  I  will,  for,  O  ! 

It  cannot  be  conceaPd. 

Cho.  You  do  delay  j 

Inform  us  straight. 

CEdi.  Know  you  the  son  of  Laius  ?     170 

Cho.  Alas ! 

CEdi.  The  race  of  Labdacus  ? 

Cho,  O  Jove ! 

CEdi.  The  unhappy  CEdipus. 

Cho.  And  art  thou  he  ? 

CEdi.  Be  not  a£frighted  at  my  words. 

Cho.  O  Heaven  ! 

CEOi.   Wretch  that  I  am !    What  will  become  of 
me? 


(EDIPUS  COLONEUS. — ACT  I. 


315 


185 


190 


Cho.  Away !  begone  !  fly  from  this  place  ! 

Qjjji  Then  where  175 

Are  all  your  promises  ?    are  they  forgotten  ?   . 
Cho.  Justice  divine  will  never  punish  those 

Who  but  repay  the  injury  they  receive  ; 

And  fraud  doth  merit  fraud  for  its  reward. 

Wherefore  begone,  and  leave  us,  lest  once  more     180 

Our  city  be  compell'd  to  force  thee  hence. 
Ant.  O  my  kind  friends  !  as  you  revere  the  name 

Of  virtue,  though  you  will  not  hear  the  prayers 

Of  my  unhappy  father,  worn  with  age. 

And  laden  with  involuntary  crimes ; 

Yet  hear  the  daughter  pleading  for  her  sire, 

And  pity  her,  who  with  no  evil  eye 

Beholds  you,  but,  as  one  of  the  same  race, 

Born  of  one  common  father,  here  intreats 

Your  mercy  to  the  unhappy  ;  for  on  you. 

As  on  some  god  alone,  we  must  rely. 

Then  grant  this  wish'd-for  boon  ;  O  !  grant  it  now  ; 

By  all  that's  dear  to  thee,  thy  sacred  word, 

Thy  interest,  thy  children,  and  thy  god  ; 

'Tis  not  in  mortals  to  avoid  the  crime  195 

Which  Heaven  hath  pre-ordain'd. 

Cho.  We  pity  thee. 

Daughter  of  (Edipus  !  we  pity  hira. 
And  his  misfortunes;  but,  of  wrath  divine 
Still  fearful,  dare  not  alter  our  decree. 

(Edi.  Now  who  shall  trust  to  glory  and  fair  fame? 
What  shall  it  profit,  that  your  pious  city  201 

Was  once  for  hospitable  riles  renowned. 
That  she  alone  would  pity  and  relieve 
The  afflicted  stranger  ?    Is  she  so  to  me. 
Who  drives  me  hence,  and  trembles  at  a  name  ?     205 
Me  you  can  never  fear ;  and  for  my  crimes, 
I  am  the  sufferer,  not  the  offender.    What 


I 


316 


SOPHOCLES. 


Touching  my  father  I  have  spoke,  (alas ! 

If  'tis  for  that  you  do  abhor  me  thus) 

Was  I  to  blame  ?     The  injury  received  210 

I  but  repaid,  and  therefore  had  I  known 

The  crime  I  acted,  I  were  guiltless  still. 

Whither  I  came,  I  came  unknowingly  ; 

Not  so  they  acted  who  have  banish'd  me. 

By  your  commands  already  here  removed,  215 

O  !  by  the  gods,  preserve,  assist  me  now  : 

If  you  revere  them,  do  not  thus  despise 

What  they  decree  ;  their  eyes  behold  the  good, 

And  view  the  evil  man,  nor  shall  the  wicked 

Escape  their  wrath  :  use  not  their  sacred  names     220 

To  cover  crimes,  and  stain  the  fame  of  Athens. 

As  you  received  the  suppliant,  O  !  remember 

Your  plighted  faith,  preserve  me,  save  me  now  ; 

Look  not  contemptuous  on  this  wretched  form. 

Or  cast  reproach  unmerited  :  I  come  225 

Nor  impious  nor  profane  ;  and  with  me  bring 

To  Athens  much  of  profit  and  renown. 

As,  when  your  king  arrives,  you  all  shall  know  : 

Meantime  despise  me  not. 

Cho.  Old  man  !  thy  words 

Are  full  of  weight,  and  merit  our  observance.  2^30 

If  those  who  here  preside  but  know  thy  purpose, 
It  doth  suffice. 

CEdi.  But  say,  where  is  the  king  ? 

C«o.  Within  his  palace  ;  but  a  messenger 
Is  gone  to  fetch  him  hither. 

CEdi.  O  my  friends ! 

Think  you  a  sightless  wretch  like  me  will  move      235 
His  pity  or  his  care,  that  he  will  come  P 

Cho.  Most  readily,  when  he  shall  hear  the  name 
Of  CEdipus. 

CEdi.  And  who  shall  tell  it  him  ? 


CEDIPUS    COLONEUS  . — ACT   I. 


317 


250 


Cho.  The  journey  's  long ;  but  passing  travellers 
Will  catch  the  tale,  and  he  must  hear  it  soon.        240 
Fear  not;  thy  story  is  already  known 
On  every  side ;  Hwill  quicken  his  slow  steps, 
And  bring  him  instant  hither. 

CEdi.  May  he  come 

In  happy  hour  to  Athens  and  to  me  !  244 

He  will ;  what  good  man  doth  not  love  his  country  ? 

Ant.  O  Jove !  what  shall  I  say  or  think  ?  My  fa- 
ther! 

(Edi.  What  says  my  daughter  ? 

Ant.  This  way  bent,  behold. 

On  a  Sicilian  steed,  a  woman  comes, 
Her  face  conceal'd  by  a  Thessalian  veil, 
To  shield  her  from  the  sun.     Am  I  deceived, 
Or  is  it  she  ?     I  know  not  what  to  think. 
It  is  my  sister ;  now  she  smiles  upon  me  : 
It  must,  it  can  be  none  but  my  Ismene. 

CEdi.  Who  ?  my  Antigone  ? 

Ant.  It  is  thy  daughter. 

My  sister ;  but  her  voice  will  soon  convince  thee.  255 

Enter  Ismene  and  Attendant. 

Ism.  O  the  sweet  sounds  !  a  father  and  a  sister ! 
What  pains  have  I  not  sufier'd  in  the  search. 
And  now  for  grief  can  scarce  behold  you ! 

CEdi.  O 

My  daughter !  art  thou  here  ? 

Ism.  Alas,  my  father ! 

How  terribly  thou  look'st ! 

CEdi.  From  the  same  blood  260 

The  father  and  the  daughter.    • 

Ism.  Wretched  race ! 

CEdi.  And  art  thou  come,  my  daughter? 

IsM«  I  have  reach'd  thee 


I; 


I 


318 


SOPHOCLES. 


With  toil  and  labor. 
CEdi.  Touch  me,  O  my  child  ! 

Ism.  Let  me  embrace  you  both. 

Qgjj,  Both  miserable ! 

Ism.  [they  all  embrace.]  Join  then  a  third  as  wretched 
as  yourselves.  '^^ 

(Edi.  Ismene  !  wherefore  art  thou  come? 
IsM.  My  care 

For  thee,  my  father  !  brought  me  here. 

CEdi.  ^°^  ™^  • 

Ism.  That  I  might  speak  to  thee  i  this  faithful  slave 
Alone  conducted  me.  [pointing  to  her  Attendant. 

CEdi.  Thy  brothers,  say, 

What  are  they  doing  ? 

Ism,  They  are what  they  are  ;  270 

For,  O  !  between  them  deadliest  discord  reigns. 

CEdi.  How  like  the  unmanly  sons  of  Egypt's  clime, 
Where  the  men  sit  inglorious  at  the  loom. 
And  to  their  wives  leave  each  domestic  care ! 
Ev'n  thus,  my  sons  !  who  should  have  labor'd  for  me. 
Like  women  idly  sit  at  home,  whilst  you  276 

Perform  their  office,  and  with  filial  care 
Attend  a  wretched  father :  this  kind  maid, 

[jpointing  to  Antigone. 

Ev'n  from  her  infant  days,  hath  wander'd  long 

An  exile  with  me,  and  supported  still 

My  feeble  age :  oft  through  the  savage  woods, 

Naked  and  hungry,  by  the  wintry  storms, 

Or  scorching  heats  afflicted,  led  me  on, 

And  gave  me  food,  unmindful  of  her  own. 

Thou  too,  Ismene  !  wert  my  faithful  guard. 

When  I  was  driven  forth ;  and  now  art  come 

To  tell  thy  father  what  the  gods  declare. 

A  stranger  now  to  Thebes,  I  know  not  what 

Hath  pass'd  between  them :  thou  hast  some  sad  news, 


I 


280 


286 


(EDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT  I. 


319 


295 


300 


305 


I  know  thou  hast,  to  tell  thy  wretched  father.         200 

Ism.  What  I  have  suffer'd  in  the  search  of  thee, 
I  pass  in  silence  o'er,  since  to  repeat 
Were  but,  alas  !  to  double  my  misfortunes. 
I  only  came  to  tell  thee  the  sad  fate 
Of  thy  unhappy  sons ;  awhile  they  seem'd 
As  if  they  meant  to  yield  the  throne  to  Creon,  ' 
Nor  stain  their  guilty  hands  with  Tlieban  blood, 
Mindful  of  that  pollution  which  remained 
On  thy  devoted  race  ;  but  now  some  god. 
Or  their  own  wicked  minds,  have  raised  a  flame 
Of  dire  contention,  which  shall  gain  the  power 
Supreme,  and  reign  in  Thebes  :  Eteocles 
Hath  drove  his  elder  Polynices  forth. 
Who,  now  an  exile,  seeks  (as  Fame  reports)] 
The  Argians,  and,  in  solemn  contract  join'd 
With  these  his  new  allies,  would  raise  their  fame 
Above  the  stars,  and  sink  our  Thebes  in  ruin. 
These  are  not  words  alone,  'tis  now  in  act. 
Alas  !  ev'n  now  I  fear ;  nor  know  I  when 
The  gods  will  take  compassion  on  thy  woes. 
CEdi.  Hast  thou  no  hope  they 'll.pity  me? 

Ism. 

Their  oracles  have  said  it. 

CEdi.  Ha  !  said  what, 

My  daughter  ?    Tell  me,  what  have  they  declared  ? 
IsM.  The  time  would  come,  they  said,  when  Thebes 
once  more 
Must  seek  thee,  dead  or  living,  for  her  safety.        315 
CEdi.  Why,  what  could  such  a  wretch  as  I  do  for 

them  ? 
Ism.  Their  only  hope,  they  say,  is  placed  in  thee. 
CEdi.  I,    that  am    nothing,    grown  so  powerful! 
Whence 
Can  it  proceed  ? 

Ism,  The  gods,  who  once  depressed  thee. 


II 


310 


I  have ; 


S20 


SOPHOCLES. 


(EDIPUS  COLONEUS. — ACT  I. 


321 


Now  raise  thee  up  again. 

CEdi.  It  cannot  be ;  320 

Who  falls  in  youth  will  never  rise  in  age. 

Ism.  Know,  for  this  very  purpose  Creon  comes  ; 
Ere  long  thou  maysl  expect  him. 

CEdi.  What  to  do, 

My  daughter  ? 

Ism.  To  remove  thee  hence,  and  place  thee 

Nearer  to  Thebes,  but  not  within  her  borders.  325 

CEdi.  If  not  within  her  walls,  what  can  it  be 
To  them  ? 

Ism.  Thy  tomb,  raised  in  a  foreign  land, 

They  fear  would  prove  most  fatal. 

CEdi.  But  how  know  they 
It  must  be  so,  unless  some  god  declared  it  ? 

Ism.  For  this  alone  they  wish  to  have  thee  near  330 
The  borders,  in  their  power,  and  not  thy  own. 

(Edi.  To  bury  me  at  Thebes  ? 

IsM.  That  cannot  be  ; 

Thy  crime  forbids  it. 

CEdi.  Then  I  Ml  never  go. 

IsM.  A  time  will  come  when  they  shall  feel  thy  ven- 
geance. 

CEdi.  What  strange  vicissitude  can  e*er  produce 
This  wish'd  event? 

IsM.  Thy  wrath,  when  at  thy  tomb  336 

They  shall  be  forced  to  meet. 

CEdi.  Who  told  thee  this  ? 

Ismene,  say. 

IsM.  The  sacred  ministers 

Of  Delphi. 

CEdi.  Came  it  from  Apollo's  shrine  P 

Ism.  On  their  return  to  Thebes  they  did   report 
it. 

CEdi.  My  sons,  did  they  hear  aught  of  this  ?       341 

IsM.  Both  heard. 


And  know  it  well, 

CEdi.  Yet,  impious  as  they  are, 

Preferr'd  a  kingdom  to  their  father's  love. 

IsM.  With  grief  I  tell  thee  what  with  grief  I  heard. 

CEdi.  O  !  may  the  gods  doom  them  to  endless  strife  ! 
Ne'er  may  the  battle  cease,  till  CEdipus  346 

Himself  shall  end  it !     Then,  nor  he  who  hears 
The  sceptre  now,  should  long  maintain  the  throne. 
Nor  Polynices,  e'er  to  Thebes  return  ; 
They  should  not  live,  who  drove  a  parent  forth       350 
To  misery  and  exile  ;  left  by  those 
Who  should  have  loved,  supported,  and  revered  him 
I  know  they  say,  the  city  but  complied 
With  my  request;  I  ask'd  for  banishment. 
Nor  then  I  ask'd  it :  in  my  desperate  mind  355 

When  first  I  raged,  I  wish'd  indeed  for  death  : 
It  had  been  grateful  then  ;  but  no  kind  friend 
Would  minister  the  boon  :  at  length,  my  grief 
Gave  way ;  and  when  they  saw  my  troubled  soul 
Had  taken  ample  vengeance  on  itself,  360 

After  long  stay,  the  city  drove  me  forth  ; 
And  those  who  could  have  saved  me,  my  base  sons, 
Deaf  to  a  father's  prayers,  permit  me  still 
To  roam  abroad,  in  poverty  and  exile : 
From  these  alone,  far  as  their  tender  sex  365 

Can  help  me,  I  receive  the  means  of  life. 
All  the  sweet  comfort,  food,  or  needful  rest 
Earth  can  afford  me  now ;  whilst  to  my  sons 
A  throne  was  dearer  than  a  father's  love. 
But  they  shall  never  gain  me  for  their  friend,  370 

Ne'er  reign  in  Thebes  ;  these  oracles  declare 
They  never  shall.     I  do  remember  too 
Another  prophecy,  which  Phoebus  erst 
Deliver'd  to  me  :•  let  'em  send  their  Creon, 
Or  any  other  powerful  citizen,  375 

SOPH.  X 


I 


322 


SOPHOCLES. 


GBDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT   I. 


323 


ii 


380 


To  drag  me  hence  :  my  hospitable  friends, 
If  to  these  all-protecting  deities 
Who  here  preside,  you  too  will  lend  your  aid, 
Athens  shall  find  in  me  its  best  defence. 
And  vengeance  strike  the  foes  of  CEdipus. 

Cho.  Thou  and  thy  daughters  will  deserve  our  pity  ; 
And,  for  thy  words  are  full  of  promised  good 
To  our  loved  city,  I  will  tell  thee  all 
'Tis  meet  thou  shouldst  perform. 

(£j3,^  My  best  of  friends  ! 

Instruct  me  ;  I  am  ready  to  obey.  385 

Cho.  An  expiation  instant  must  thou  make 

To  the  offended  powers,  whose  sacred  seat 

Thou  hast  profaned. 

(Edi.  But  how  must  it  be  done  ? 

Cho,'  First,  with  pure  hands,  from  the  ever-flowing 
spring. 

Thy  due  libations  pour. 
CEdi.  What  follows  then  ?        390 

Cho.  Take  thou  a  cup,  wrought  by  some  skilful 
hand; 

Bind  it  with  wreaths  around. 
CEdi.  Of  leaves  or  threads 

Composed? 

Cho.  Of  wool,  fresh  from  the  new-shorn  Iamb. 

CEdi.  Is  there  aught  else  ? 

Cho.  Then,  turning  to  the  sun. 

Make  thy  libations. 

CEdi.  From  the  cup,  thou  say 'st?    395 

Cho.  The  water  from  three  fountains  drawn  ;  and 
last. 
Remember,  none  be  left. 

CEdi.  With  that  alone 

Must  it  be  fill'd  ? 

Cho.  Water  with  honey  mix'd. 


No  wine  ;  this  pour  on  the  earth — 

CEdi.  What  then  remains  ? 

Cho.  Take  in  thy  hand  of  olive  boughs  thrice  nine ; 
And  offering  these,  begin  thy  humble  prayer.  401 

(Edi.  But  how  address  them?    That  concerns  me 
near. 

Cho.  Their  name,  thou  know'st,  implies  benevolent ; 
Intreat  them,  therefore,  kindly  now  to  prove 
Benevolent  to  thee  ;  this  by  thyself,  405 

Or  by  another  for  thee  :  but,  remember, 
Low  be  the  voice,  and  short  the  supplication. 
That  done,  return  :  be  careful  to  perform  it. 
I  may  assist  thee  then  with  confidence  ; 
But,  if  thou  dost  it  not,  must  tremble  for  thee.         410 

CEdi.  My  daughters,  heard  you  this  ? 

Ant.  We  did  ;  command 

What 's  to  be  done. 

CEdi.  What  I  can  never  do. 

Powerless  and  blind  as  I  am  ;  one  of  you. 
My  daughters !  must  perform  it. 

Ant.  One  alone 

May  do  the  task  of  many,  when  the  mind  415 

Is  active  in  it. 

CEdi.  Hence,  then,  quick,  away  ; 

But  do  not  leave  me  here  alone  :  these  limbs. 
Without  a  guide,  will  never  find  their  way. 

IsM.  Father !  I  go  :  but  how  to  find  the  place, 
I  know  not. 

Cho.  Stranger,  t'other  side  of  the  grove  ;   420 

There,  some  inhabitant  will  soon  inform  thee, 
If  thou  shouldst  want  assistance  or  instruction. 

IsM.  Meantime,  Antigone  !  remain  thou  here. 
And  guard  our  father  well :  cares  are  not  cares,     424 
When  we  endure  them  for  a  parent's  sake.  [Exft, 

Cho.  Stranger !  albeit  we  know  'tis  most  ungrateful 


M 


jf:!|lt 


324 


SOPHOCLES. 


To  raise  the  sad  remembrance  of  past  woes, 
Yet  would  we  gladly  hear 

OEdi.  What  wouldst  thou  know  ? 

Cho.  The  cause  of  thy  unhappy  state. 

(Edi.  Alas ! 

By  all  the  sacred  hospitable  rites,  430 

I  beg^  thee  do  not  ask  me  to  rereal  it : 
My  crimes  are  horrible. 

Cho.  Already  fame 

Hath  spread  them  wide,  and  still  talks  loudly  of  them  : 
Tell  us  the  truth. 

(Edi.  Alas ! 

Cho.  Let  me  beseech  thee. 

CEdi.  O  me ! 

Cho.  Comply  :  ask  what  thou  wilt  of  me, 

And  thou  shalt  have  it. 

CEdi.  I  have  suffer'd  much :    436 

The  gods  can  witness,  'twas  against  my  will ; 
I  knew  not  of  it. 

Cho.  Knew  not  what? 

CEdi.  The  city, 

Unknowing  too,  bound  me  in  horrid  nuptials. 

Cho.  And  didst  thou  then  pollute,  as  fame  reports, 
Thy  mother's  bed  ? 

CEdi.  O  death  to  hear .'  1  did  :  441 

Here,  here  they  are. 

Cho.  Who  's  there  ? 

CEdi.  My  crimes  !  my  daughters  ! 

Cho.  Daughters  and  sisters  of  their  father  ?    O  ! 
'Tis  horrible  indeed. 

CEdi.  'Tis  wo  on  wo. 

Cho.  Great  Jove  !    both  daughters  of  one  hapless 
mother !  445 

What  hast  thou  suffer'd  ? 

CEdi.  Ills  not  to  be  borne ! 


(EDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT  I. 


325 


Cho.  Didst  thou  then  perpetrate  the  horrid  deed  ? 

CEdi.  O  no. 

Cho.  Not  do  it? 

CEdi.  I  received  from  Thebes 

A  fatal  gift ;  would  I  had  never  taken  it !  449 

Cho.  And  art  thou  not  a  murderer  too  ? 

CEdi.  What 's  that 

Thou  say'st  P 

Cho.  Thy  father 

CEdi.  Thou  add'st  grief  to  grief. 

Cho.  Didst  thou  not  murder  him  ? 

CEdi.  I  did :  but  hear 

Cho.  Hear  what  P 

CEdi.  The  cause. 

Cho.  What  cause  P 

CEdi.  I  '11  thee :  know  then, 

I  murdered  others  too  ;  yet  by  the  laws 
I  stand  absolved  :  'twas  done  in  ignorance.  455 

Cho.  [seeing  Theseus,  who  enters,]  But,  lo  !  the  king, 
-^gean  Theseus,  comes : 
The  fame  of  thee  hath  brought  him  here  already. 

The.  O  son  of  Laius !  long  ere  this  the  tale 
Of  thy  disastrous  fate,  by  many  a  tongue 
Related,  I  had  heard  ;  thy  eyes  torn  forth  460 

By  thy  own  desperate  hand,  and  now  I  see 
It  was  too  true  ;  thy  garb  and  dreadful  aspect 
Speak  who  thou  art.     Unhappy  CEdipus, 
I  come  to  ask,  in  pity  to  thy  woes, 
What 's  thy  request  to  Athens  or  to  me  ;  465 

Thine,  or  this  hapless  virgin  on  thy  steps 
Attendant,  speak  ;  for  large  must  be  the  boon 
I  would  refuse  thee  :  I  have  known  too  well 
(Myself  a  wretched  wanderer)  the  woes 

449  Meaning  the  throne  of  Thebes,  with  Jocasta,  whom  he 
married. 


CEDIPUS  COLONEUS. — ACT  I. 


327 


336 


SOPHOCLES. 


470 


475 


Of  cruel  exile,  not  to  pity  thine. 

Of  toils  and  dangers,  in  a  foreign  land, 

Much  have  I  suffer'd  ;  therefore  not  to  me 

Shall  the  poor  stranger  ever  sue  in  vain 

For  aid  and  safety  :  mortals  as  we  are, 

Uncertain  ever  is  to-morrow's  fate 

Alike  unknown  to  Theseus  and  to  thee. 

CEdt.  Theseus  !  thy  words  declare  thy  noble  nature. 

And  leave  me  little  to  reply  :  thou  know'st 

My  story,  whom  and  whence  I  am  ;  no  more 

Remains,  but  that  I  tell  thee  my  request,  480 

And  we  have  done. 
The.  Proceed  then,  and  inform  me. 

CEdi.  I  come  to  give  this  wretched  body  to  thee, 

To  sight  ungracious,  but  of  worth  more  dear 

To  thee,  than  fairest  forms  could  boast. 
rpjjE  What  worth? 

(Edi.  Hereafter  thou  shalt  know,  not  now. 

fpjjg  But  when 

Shall  we  receive  it? 
CEdi.  When  I  am  no  more ;  486 

Wlien  thou  shalt  bury  me. 

'YiiP,  Death  is,  it  seems, 

Thy  chief  concern,  and  life  not  worth  thy  care. 

(Edi.  That  will  procure  me  all  the  means  of  life. 

The.  And  is  this  all  thou  ask'st,  this  little  boon  ? 

CEdi.  Not  little  is  the  strife  which  shall  ensue.    491 

The.  What  strife  ?  with  whom  ?  thy  children,  or  my 

own  ? 
CEdi.  Mine,  Theseus!  they  would  have  me  back  to 

Thebes. 
The.  And  wouldst  thou  rather  be  an  exile  here  ? 

CEdi.  Once  they  refused  me. 

rp^E  Anger  suits  but  ill 

With  low  estate,  and  miseries  like  thine.  496 


501 


505 


yield 


CEdi.  Hear  first,  and  then  condemn  me. 

rpHE,  Not  unheard 

All  thou  canst  urge,  would  I  reprove  thee  :  speak. 
(Edi.  O  Theseus !  I  have  borne  the  worst  of  ills. 

The.  The  curses  on  thy  race  ? 

(jjjjj  O  no  ;  all  Greece 

Hath  heard  of  them, 
Tjje  What  more  than  mortal  wo 

Afflicts  thee  then  ? 

CEdi.  Ev'n  this  ;  my  cruel  sons 

Have  driven  me  from  my  country  :  never  more 
Must  Thebes  receive  a  parricide. 

The.  ^^y  *^®^ 

Recall  thee  now,  if  thou  must  ne'er  return  ? 
CEdi.  Commanded  by  an  oracle  divine. 
The.  Why,  what  doth  it  declare  ? 
(j-^j  That  Thebes  sTTal 

To  thee,  and  to  thy  arms. 
fjijjg  But  whence  should  spring 

Such  dire  contention  ?  .  „         , 

C£pi  Dearest  son  of  ^geus  ! 

From  age  and  death  exempt,  the  gods  alone 
Immortal  and  unchangeable  remain. 
Whilst  all  things  else  fall  by  the  hand  of  Time, 
The  universal  conqueror :  earth  laments 
Her  fertile  powers  exhausted  ;  human  strength 
Is  withered  soon ;  ev'n  faith  and  truth  decay. 
And  from  their  ashes  fraud  and  falsehood  rise  ; 
Nor  friendship  long  from  man  to  man  endures, 
Or  realm  to  realm  :  to  each,  successive  rise 
Bitter  and  sweet,  and  happiness  and  wo. 
Athens  and  Thebes  thou  seest  united  now. 
And  all  is  well ;  but  passing  time  shall  bring 
The  fatal  day  (and  slight  will  be  the  cause) 
That  soon  shall  change  the  bonds  of  amity 


510 


515 


520 


328 


SOPHOCLES. 


(EDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT  I. 


329 


And  holy  failh,  for  feuds  and  deadliest  hate. 

Then,  buried  long  in  earth,  shall  this  cold  corse     526 

Drink  their  warm  blood,  which  from  the  mutual  wound 

Frequent  shall  flow  :  it  must  be  as  I  tell  thee, 

If  Jove  be  Jove,  and  great  Apollo  true. 

But  why  should  I  reveal  the  fix'd  decree 

Of  all-deciding  Heaven?    Permit  me  now  630 

To  end  where  I  began  :  thy  plighted  faith 

Once  more  confirm  ;  and  never  shalt  thou  say 

The  wretched  (Edipus  to  Theseus  came 

A  useless  and  unprofitable  guest, 

If  the  immortal  gods  have  not  deceived  me.  536 

Cho.  O  king !  already  hath  this  man  declared 
The  same  good  will  to  thee  and  to  our  country. 

The.  Can  I  reject  benevolence  and  love 
Like  this,  my  friends  ?    O  no  ;  the  common  rites 
Of  hospitality,  this  altar  here,  540 

The  witness  of  our  mutual  vows,  forbid  it. 
He  comes  a  suppliant  to  these  goddesses, 
And  pays  no  little  tribute  both  to  me 
And  to  my  kingdom  :  he  shall  find  a  seat 
Within  my  realms,  for  I  revere  his  virtues.  545 

If  here  it  pleaseth  him  to  stay,  remember, 

[to  the  Chorus. 
'Tis  my  command  you  guard  this  stranger  well. 
If  thou  wouldst  rather  go  with  me,  thou  mayst ; 
I  leave  it  to  thy  choice.  [to  (Edipus. 

CEdu  Reward  them,  Jove  ! 

The.  What  say'st  thou,  wilt  thou  follow  me  ? 

CEdi.  I  would, 

If  it  were  lawful ;  but  it  must  be  here  ;  561 

This  is  the  place 

The.  For  what  ?  I  '11  not  deny  thee^ 

(Edi.  Where  I  must  conquer  those  who  banish'd 
me. 


The.  That  would  be  glory  and  renown  to  this, 


Thy  place  of  refuge. 


If  I 


ly  depend  556 

On  thy  fair  promise. 

The.  Fear  not,  I  shall  never 

Betray  ray  friend. 

Q^Di.  I  will  not  bind  thee  to  it 

By  oath,  like  those  whom  we  suspect  of  ill. 

The.  Thou  need'st  not,  CEdipus  !   my  word 's  my 
oath. 

CEdi.  How  must  I  act  then  ? 

The.  Fear'st  thou  aught  ? 

GSdi.  I  do ; 

A  force  will  come  against  me. 

The.  Here 's  thy  guard ;  561 

[pointing  to  the  Chorus, 
These  shall  protect  thee. 

CEdi.  If  thou  goest,  remember, 

And  save  me,  Theseus  ! 

The.  Teach  not  me  my  du^y 

CEdi.  Still  am  I  fearful. 

The.  Theseus  is  not  so.  564 

CEdi.  Kuow'st  thou  not  what  they  threatened  P 

The.  This  I  know, 

No  power  on  earth  shall  wrest  thee  from  this  place. 
Ofttimes  the  angry  soul  will  vent  its  wrath 
In  idle  threats,  with  high  and  empty  words ; 
Which  ever,  as  the  mind  is  to  itself  569 

Restored,  are — nothing  :  they  may  boast  their  strength, 
And   say  they  Ml  tear  thee   from    me ;    but,    I   tell 

thee. 
The  journey  would  be  long  and  tedious  to  them. 
They  will  not  hazard  it;  they  dare  not :  therefore 
Be  comforted  ;  for  if,  by  Phoebus  sent, 
Thou  hither  camest,  thou  art  safe  without  my  aid,  576 


ii 


m 


330 


SOPHOCLES. 


580 


585 


Ev'n  if  I  leave  thee  safe  ;  for  know,  the  name 
Of  Theseus  here  suflBceth  to  protect  thee. 

lExit  Theseus. 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE   I. 

Thou  art  come  in  happy  time, 

Stranger !  to  this  blissful  clime. 

Long  for  swiftest  steeds  renown'd, 

Fertilest  of  the  regions  round, 

Where,  beneath  the  ivy  shade. 

In  the  dew-besprinkled  glade. 

Many  a  love-lorn  nightingale 

Warbles  sweet  her  plaintive  tale  ; 

Where  the  vine  in  clusters  pours 

Her  sweets,  secured  from  wintry  showers  ; 

Nor  scorching  suns,  nor  raging  storm 

The  beauties  of  the  year  deform  ; 

ANTISTROPHE   I. 

Where  the  sweet  narcissus  growing. 
Where  the  yellow  crocus  blowing, 
Round  the  sacred  altars  twine. 
Offering  to  the  powers  divine  ; 
Where  the  pure  springs  perpetual  flow, 
Watering  the  verdant  meads  below. 
Which  with  its  earth-enriching  waves 
The  fair  Cephisus  ever  laves  ; 
Where,  with  his  ever-sporting  train, 
Bacchus  wantons  on  the  plain, 
Pleased  with  the  Muses  still  to  rove, 
And  golden  Venus,  queen  of  love. 

STROPHE   II. 

Alone  within  this  happy  land. 
Planted  here  by  Nature's  hand, 
Which,  nor  Asia's  fertile  plains. 
Nor  Pelops'  spacious  isle  contains, 


590 


595 


600 


605 


615 


620 


(EDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT    H.  331 

Pallas  !  thy  sacred  olive  grows. 

Striking  terror  on  our  foes  ; 

Ever  free  from  hostile  rage, 

From  wanton  youth,  or  greedy  age ; 

Happy  in  sage  Minerva's  love,  610 

And  guarded  still  by  Morian  Jove. 

ANTISTROPHE    H. 

But  nobler  gifts,  and  fairer  fame, 

Athens  !  yet  adorn  thy  name  ; 

Such  wondrous  gifts  hath  pour'd  on  thee 

Thy  great  protecting  deity. 

Here  first,  obedient  to  command, 

Form'd  by  Neptune's  skilful  hand, 

The  steed  was  taught  to  know  the  rein, 

And  bear  the  chariot  o'er  the  plain  ; 

Here  first  along  the  rapid  tide 

The  stately  vessels  learn'd  to  ride, 

And  swifter  down  the  current  flow 

Than  Nereids  cut  the  waves  below.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  II. 

ANTIGONE,    (EDIPUS,    CHORUS. 

Ant.  Great  are  thy  praises,  Attica!  and  now 

The  time  is  come  to  show  thou  dost  deserve  them.  625 

CEdi.  What  means  my  daughter  ?  Speak:  what  new 
event 
Alarms  thee? 

Ant.  Creon,  with  a  numerous  band 

Of  followers,  comes  this  way. 

qEdi.  0>  now,  my  friends  ! 

If  ever,  help  me. 

Cho.  Fear  not ;  we  '11  protect  thee. 


u 


332 


SOPHOCLES. 


636 


640 


Though  I  am  old,  the  strength  of  Attica  630 

Is  not  decayed. 

Efiter  Creon,  with  Attendants. 

Cre.  Most  honor'd  citizens  ! 

I  see  you  look  with  eyes  of  fear  upon  me, 
Without  a  cause  ;  for  know,  I  came  not  here, 
Intending  aught  of  violence  or  ill 
Against  a  city  so  renown'd  in  Greece 
As  yours  hath  ever  been  ;  I  only  came. 
Commissioned  by  the  state  of  Thebes,  to  fetch 
This  old  man  back,  if  by  persuasion  mild 
I  could  induce  him  to  return  ;  not  sent 
By  one  alone,  but  the  united  voice 
Of  a  whole  people,  who  assign'd  the  task 
To  me,  because,  by  blood  united  to  him, 
I  felt  for  his  misfortunes  as  ray  own. 
Come,  therefore,  OEdipus  !  attend  me  home  ; 
Thebes  calls  thee  back  ;  thy  kingdom   now  demands 

thee  ; 
By  me  she  calls  thee  :  listen  to  thy  friend  ; 
For  surely  Creon  were  the  worst  of  men, 
If  he  could  look  on  woes  like  thine  unmoved  ; 
When  I  behold  thee  in  a  foreign  land, 
A  wretched  wanderer,  forced  to  beg  thy  bread. 
From  place  to  place,  with  this  unhappy  maid, 
Whom  little  did  I  think  to  see  exposed 
To  misery  and  shame,  of  nuptial  rites 
Hopeless,  and  thus  bereft  of  every  aid. 

0  !  'tis  reproach  and  infamy  to  us 
And  to  our  race  ;  but  'tis  already  known, 
And  cannot  be  conceard.     O  (Edipus  ! 

1  here  beseech  thee,  by  our  country's  gods, 
Return  to  Thebes ;  bid  thou  a  kind  farewell, 
(For  she  deserves  it)  to  this  noble  city. 


645 


650 


655 


660 


(EDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT   II. 


333 


But  still  remember  thy  own  dearer  country. 

CEdi.  Thou  daring  hypocrite  !  whose  specious  wiles 
Beneath  fair  semblance  mean  but  to  betray, 
Why  wouldst  thou  tempt  me  thus  ?  why  thus  once  more 
Ensnare  me  in  thy  toils,  and  make  me  still  665 

More  wretched  than  I  am  ?     Long  time,  oppressed 
By  heaviest  woes,  I  pined  within  my  palace. 
And  longed  for  exile  ;  but  thou  then  refusedst 
To  let  me  go,  till  satiated  with  grief. 
My  soul  at  length  was  calm,  and  much  I  wish'd     670 
To  spend  my  few  remaining  years  at  home. 
Then  thou  (for  little  did  the  kindred  blood 
Thou  talk'st  of  then  avail)  didst  banish  me  ; 
And  now  again  thou  comest  to  make  me  wretched ; 
Because  thou  seest  this  kind  benignant  city  675 

Embrace  and  cherish,  thou  wouldst  drag  me  hence, 
With  sweetest  words  covering  thy  bitter  mind. 
Professing  love  to  those  who  choose  it  not. 
He,  who  denies  his  charitable  aid 
To  the  poor  beggar  in  his  utmost  need,  680 

And,  if  abundance  comes,  should  offer  that 
Which  is  not  wanted,  little  merits  thanks. 
Such  is  thy  bounty  now,  in  word  alone. 
And  not  in  deed,  the  friend  of  CEdipus. 
But  I  will  tell  them  what  thou  art :  thou  earnest  not 
To  take  me  hence,  but  leave  me  in  the  borders        686 
Of  Thebes,  that  so  thy  kingdom  may  escape 
The  impending  ills  which  this  avenging  city 
Shall  pour  upon  it :  but  'twill  come  to  pass 
As  I  foretold  ;  my  evil  genius  still  690 

Shall  haunt  thee,  and  my  sons  no  more  of  Thebes 
Inherit  than  shall  serve  them  for  a  grave. 
Thy  country's  fate  is  better  known  to  me 
Than  to  thyself,  for  my  instruction  comes 
From  surer  guides,  from  Phoebus  and  from  Jove.    6G5 


334 


SOPHOCLES. 


CEDIPUS    COLONEUS. — ACT   II. 


Thy  artful  speech  shall  little  serve  thy  purpose  ; 
'Twill  only  hurt  thy  cause :  therefore,  begone  ; 
I  am  not  to  be  persuaded.     Let  me  live 
In  quiet  here;  for,  wretched  as  I  am, 
'Twill  be  some  comfort  to  be  far  from  thee.  7UU 

Cue.   Think^st  thou   I   heed  thy   words?     Who  II 
suffer  most 
For  this  perverseness,  thou  or  I  ? 

CEdi.  ..     .V"^"'* 

Thy  little  arts  will  naught  avail  with  me 

Or  with  my  friends. 

Qj^g  Poor  wretch  !  no  time  can  cure 

Thy  follies ;  thy  old  age  is  grown  delirious.  705 

(Edi.  Thou  hast  a  hateful  tongue  ;  but  few,  how  just 

Soe'er  they  be,  can-always  speak  aright. 

Cre.  But  to  say  much,  and  to  say  well,  are  things 

Which  differ  widely. 

(IJdi.  What  thou  say^st,  no  doubt, 

Is  brief  and  proper  too. 
Qj^^  'Twill  hardly  seem  so 

To  those  who  think  like  thee. 

cedi.  ^^^y»  "^'  ^^^^ 

Direct  my  steps,  as  if  thou  hadstthe  power 

To  place  me  where  thou  wilt. 
Q^^  Remember  all 

To  witness  this,  for  he  shall  answer  it 

When  he  is  mine. 

(Eiji^  But  who  shall  force  me  hence 

Ao^ainst  the  will  of  these  my  friends? 

"cre.  Their  aid 

Is  vain;  already  I  have  done  what  much 

Will  hurt  thee. 

CEdi  Ha !  what  threats  are  these  ? 

C^g '  Thy  daughters 

Must  go  with  me  :  one  is  secured,  and  now, 


335 
720 


710 


715 


This  moment  will  I  wrest  the  other  from  thee. 

CEdi.  O  me! 

Cre.  I  '11  give  thee  much  more  cause  for  grief. 

CEdi.  Hast  thou  my  daughter  ? 

Cre.  Ay,  and  will  have  this. 

GSdi.  [to  the  C/torM5.]  What  will  you  do,  my  friends  ? 
Will  you  forsake  me  ? 
Will  you  not  drive  this  vile,  abandon'd  man 
Forth  from  your  city  ? 

Cho.  Stranger!  hence;  away:  725 

Thy  actions  are  most  shameful  and  unjust. 

Cre.  Slave  !  do  your  office ;  bear  her  off  by  force. 
If  she  consents  not. 

Ant  Whither  shall  I  fly 

For  aid  ?  What  god  or  man  shall  I  implore 

To  succor  me  ? 

Cho.  Alas  !  what  wouldst  thou  do  ?  730 

Cre.  I  touch  not  him,  but  I  must  have  my  own. 
Ant.  O  princes!  aid  me  now. 
Cho^  'Tis  most  unjust. 

Cre.  I  say  'tis  just. 

Cho.  Then  prove  it. 

CijE.  They  are  mine. 

Cho.  O  citizens ! 

Ant.  O  loose  me  !  if  you  do  not, 

You  shall  repent  this  violence. 

Cre.  Go  on ;  735 

I  will  defend  you. 

CEdi.  He,  who  injures  me. 

Offends  the  city. 

Cho.  Said  I  not  before 

It  would  be  thus? 

Cre.  \to  the  Chorus,']  Let  go  the  maid  this  instant. 

Cho.  Command  where  thou  hast  power. 

Cjjg  Let  her  go. 


336 


SOPHOCLES. 


760 


Cho.  Begone  thyself;  what,  ho !  my  countrymen  ! 
The  city  is  in  danger ;  haste,  and  save  us.  741 

[Creon's  followers  seize  on  Antigone. 

Ant.  I  'm  seized,  my  friends  !  O,  help ! 

(j;jj,^  Where  is  my  daughter  ? 

Ant.  Torn  from  thee.  .,,,.. 

(£jj,  O  !  stretch  forth  thy  hand. 

.      '  I  cannot. 

Ant. 

Cre.  Away  with  her:  ,  _, ,. 

(jjjj,  O  wretched  CEdipus ! 

Cre.  No  longer  shall  these  tender  props  support 
Thy  feeble  age:     Since  thou  art  still  resolved,  746 

Against  thyself,  thy  country,  and  thy  friends. 
By  whose  command  I  come,  remain  perverse 
And  obstinate,  old  man !  but  know,  hereafter, 
Time  will  convince  thee  thou  hast  ever  been 
Thy  own  worst  foe ;  thy  fiery  temper  still 
Must  make  thee  wretched. 

(3jjo  Stranger!  stir  not  hence: 

Cub.  I  cnarge  you,  touch  me  not. 

(3mj,  Thou  shalt  not  go 

Till  thou  restorest  the  virgins. 

r«oi7  I  must  have 

A  nobler  ransom  from  your  city  ;  these  755 

Shall  not  suffice. 

Cho  What  mean'st  thou  ? 

Cre'.  ^^  ^^*"  g^' 

This  CEdipus, 
Cho.  Thy  threats  are  terrible. 

Cre.  I  Ml  do  it ;  and  only  he,  who  governs  here, 

Shall  hinder  me. 
Qg^i.  O  insolence  !  Thou  wilt  not, 

Thou  darest  not,  force  me. 

Cre^  Hold  thy  peace. 

^jjj  Not  even  760 


CEDIPUS    COLONEUS. — ACT    H. 


337 


The  dreadful  goddesses,  who  here  preside, 

Should  bind  my  tongue  from  heaviest  curses  on  thee  ; 

For  thou  hast  robb*d  me  of  the  only  light 

These  eyes  could  boast.     But  may  the  all-seeing  sun 

Behold  and  punish  thee  and  all  thy  race,  765 

And  load  thy  age  with  miseries  like  mine  ! 

Cre.  Inhabitants  of  Athens  !  hear  ye  this  ? 

CEdi.  They  do,  andsee  that  but  with  fruiltess  words 
I  can  repay  the  injuries  I  received  ; 
For  I  am  weak  with  age,  and  here  alone.  770 

Cre.  No  longer  will  I  curb  my  just  resentment, 
But  force  thee  hence. 

CEdi.  O  me ! 

Cho.  What  boldness,  stranger ! 

Could  make  thee  hope  to  do  a  deed  like  this 
Unpunish'd  ? 

Cre.  'Tis  resolved. 

Cho.  Our  Athens  then 

Is  fallen  indeed,  and  is  no  more  a  city.  775 

Cre,  In  a  just  cause  the  weak  may  foil  the  mighty. 

.CEdi.  Hear  how  he  threatens — 

Cho.  What  he  '11  ne'er  perform. 

Cre.  That  Jove  alone  can  tell. 

Cho.  Shall  injuries 

Like  these  be  suffered  ? 

Cre.  Call  it  injury 

Thou  mayst ;  *tis  such  as  thou  perforce  must  bear.  780 

Cho.  This  is  too  much  ;  ye  rulers  of  the  land  ! 
My  fellow  citizens!  come  forth,  and  save  us. 

Enter  Theseus. 
The,  Whence  is  this  clamor?      Wherefore  am  I 
cali'd 
From  sacred  rites,  at  Neptune's  altar  paid. 
Our  guardian  god  ?    Say,  what  's  the  cause,  that  thus 
soph  y 


338 


SOPHOCLES, 


786 


In  haste  1  'm  summoned  hither  ?  ,  .  „^  , 

(Edi  ^  ™y  ^ 

(For  well  I  know  thy  voice,)  most  cruelly 
Have  I  been  treated  hy  this  man.         ^^^  ^.^.^, 

^Di*.  This  Creon,  whom  thou  seest,  hath  ravish'd 

from  me 
My  only  help,  my  daughte^^  ^  ^^^^  ^^^,^^  ^^^^  ^  ^^^ 

X  HE« 

CEdi.  'Tis  as  I  tell  thee. 

The.  [to  his  attendcmts.]     Quick,  despatch,  my  ser- 

vants ; 
Fly  to  the  aliar,  summon  all  my  people. 
Horsemen  and  foot;  give  o'er  the  sacrifice, 
And  instant  to  the  double  gate  repair, 
Lest  with  the  virgins  the  base  ravishers  7Jb 

Escape  unpunish'd,  and  my  guest,  thus  injured, 
Laucrh  me  to  scorn  for  cowardice.     Away  . 
Were  iTo  punish  this  oppressor  here  [turning  to  Creon. 
As  my  resentment  bids,  and  he  deserves, 
He  should  this  instant  fall  beneath  my  rage  : 
But  the  same  justice  he  to  others  deals 
Himself  shall  meet  from  us.     Thou  shalt  not  go, 
Till  those,  whom  thou  didst  basely  ravish  hence, 
Are  brought  before  me  :  'twas  unlike  thyself, 
Unworthy  of  thy  country  and  thy  race, 
To  enter  thus  a  cultivattd  city, 
Where  law  and  justice  reign,  with  violence 
And  rapine  snatching  what  thy  fancy  pleased. 
Or  didst  thou  think  I  ruled  a  desert  land. 
Or  that  my  people  were  a  race  of  slaves. 
And  Theseus  but  the  shadow  of  a  king  ? 
Thebes  never  taught  thee  such  destructive  lessons, 
For  she  abhors  injustice  :  when  she  hears 
That  Creon,  thus  despising  sacred  laws, 


800 


805 


810 


CEDIPUS    COLONEUS. — ACT   II. 


339 


820 


Hath  taken  with  brutal  violence  my  right,  815 

And  would  have  stolen  a  wretched  suppliant  from  me. 

She  '11  not  approve  thy  conduct.     Say,  I  went 

To  Thebes,  how  just  soever  were  the  cause, 

I  should  not  seize  on  aught  without  the  leave 

Of  him  who  govern'd  there  ;  but,  as  becomes 

A  stranger,  bear  myself  unblamed  by  all. 

Thou  hast  disgraced  thy  country  and  thy  friends. 

And  weight  of  years  hath  taken  thy  senses  from  thee. 

Again,  I  say,  restore  the  virgins  to  me. 

Or  stay  with  me  thyself,  for  so  thou  shalt,  825 

Howe'er  unwilling.     What  I  've  said,  remember. 

Is  what  I  have  resolved  ;  therefore  determine. 

Cho.  [to  Creon,]   Stranger !  thy  actions,  noble   as 
thou  art. 
But  ill  become  thy  family  and  name. 
Because  unjust;  but  thou  behold'st  thy  fate.  830 

Cre.  Theseus !  it  was  not  that  I  thought  this  city 
Without  or  guanls  to  save,  or  laws  to  rule. 
Which  brought  me  here,  nor  unadvised  I  came  ; 
But  that  I  hoped  you  never  would  receive 
My  kindred  here  against  my  will,  nor  e'er 
Embrace  a  vile,  incestuous  parricide, 
Or  cherish  and  protect  him,  in  a  land, 
Whose  court,  renownM  for  justice,  suffers  not 
Such  poor  abandon'd  exiles  to  reside 
Within  its  borders  :  therefore  did  I  this. 
Which  yet  I  had  not  done,  but  for  the  curses 
Which  he  hath  pour'd  on  me  and  all,  my  race. 
Revenge  inspired  me  :  anger,  well  thou  know'st, 
Can  never  be  extinguish'd  but  by  death. 
Which  closeth  ev'ry  wound.  At  present,  Theseus !  845 
It  must  be  as  thou  wilt  ;  my  want  of  power, 
How  just  so'er  my  cause,  demands  submission  : 
Yet  old  and  weak,  I  shall  not  tamely  yield. 


8;V5 


841) 


340 


SOPHOCLES. 


860 


865 


860 


CEdi.   Audacious  man !    think'st  thou  the  vile  re- 
proach 
Thou  utter'st  falls  on  me  or  on  thyself? 
Thou,  who  upbraid^st  me  thus  for  all  my  woes, 
Murder  and  incest,  which  against  my  will 
I  had  committed  ;  (so  it  pleased  the  gods, 
Offended  at  my  race  for  former  crimes  ; 
But  I  am  guiltless)  canst  thou  name  a  fault 
Deserving  this?    For  tell  me,  was  it  mine, 
When  to  my  father  Phoebus  did  declare 
That  he  should  one  day  perish  by  the  hand 
Of  his  own  child  ?     Was  (Edipus  to  blame 
Who  had  no  being  then  ?    If,  born  at  length 
To  wretchedness,  he  met  his  sire  unknown, 
And  slew  him,  that  involuntary  deed 
Canst  thou  condemn  ?    And  for  my  fatal  marriage, 
Dost  thou  not  blush  to  name  it?     Was  not  she 
Thy  sister,  she  who  bore  me,  (ignorant 
And  guiltless  woman  !)  afterwards  my  wife. 
And  mother  to  my  children  ?     What  she  did, 
She  did  unknowing,  not  like  thee,  who  thus 
Dost  purposely  upbraid  us  both.     Heaven  knows, 
Unwillingly  I  wedded  her,  and  now  870 

Unwillingly  repeat  the  dreadful  tale : 
But,  not  for  that,  nor  for  my  murder'd  father, 
Have  I  deserved  thy  bitter  taunts  ;  for,  tell  me. 
Thy  life  attack'd,  wouldst  thou  have  stayed  to  ask 


866 


The  assassin  if  he  were  thy  father  ?     No, 
Self-love  would  urge  thee  to  revenge  the  insult. 
Thus  was  I  drove  to  ill  by  the  angry  gods ; 
This,  should  my  father's  soul  revisit  earth, 
Himself  would  own,  and  pity  CEdipus. 
Thy  bold  and  impious  tongue  still  utters  all ; 
Just  or  unjust,  thou  pour'st  thy  foul  reproach 
On  me,  pretending  to  revere  the  name 


875 


880 


CEDIPUS  COLONEUS. — ACT  II. 


341 


Of  Theseus  and  his  country  ;  but,  remember. 
The  city,  which  thou  thus  hast  praised,  is  famed 
For  piety  and  reverence  to  the  gods ;  8B6 

Yet  wouldst  thou  drive  a  needy  suppliant  thence, 
And  lead  him  captive.     Thou  hast  stolen  my  daughter; 
But  I  implore  the  dreadful  goddesses 
To  grant  me  aid,  that  thou  mayst  feel  the  power     889 
Which  thou  contemn'st,  and  know  the  force  of  Athens. 
Cho.  [to  Theseus.]  O  king  !  this  stranger  merits  thy 
regard  ; 
His  woes  are  great ;  his  cause  should  be  defended. 
The.  No  more  ;  the  ravishers  are  fled  with  speed. 
Whilst  we,  who  suffer,  stand  inactive  here.  894 

Cre.  Speak  thy  commands,  for  I  must  yield  to  thee. 
The.  Go  thou  before  me ;  I  shall  follow  close  : 
If  here  thou  hast  conceal'd  the  virgins,  now 
Discover  them  ;  if  hence,  to  others'  hands 
Committed,  they  are  fled,  they  shall  not  'scape: 
My  servants  soon  will  fetch  them  back.  Meantime  900 
Remember  thy  condition,  for  thy  fate 
Hath  caught  thee  in  the  net  which  thou  hadst  spread 
For  others.     But,  what  evil  means  acquire, 
Is  seldom  kept ;  thou  camest  not  naked  here. 
Or  unattended,  thus  to  do  an  act 
Of  violence.     Ere  long  I  '11  know  on  what 
Thou  didst  rely,  nor  by  a  single  arm 
Shall  Athens  fall  inglorious  :  hear'st  thou  this. 
Or  are  my  words  unheeded  P 

Cjj£,  'Tis  not  now 

A  time  to  answer  :  we  shall  know  at  home 
What  must  be  done. 

•jjjE.  Thou  threatenest ;  but  go  on. 

Stay  thou  in  quiet  here  ;  for  if  I  live, 

{^turning  to  (Edipus. 

I  will  not  rest  till  I  restore  thy  daughters. 

[Exeunt  Theseus  and  Creon. 


905 


910 


342 


SOPHOCLES. 


CHORUS. 


STROPHE  I. 

Now  the  combatants  prepare, 

And  hasten  to  the  field  of  war  :  915 

Theseus,  their  great  and  godlike  friend, 

The  hapless  virgins  shall  defend. 
O !  could  I  hear  the  dreadful  battle  roar, 

Or  near  Apollo's  sacred  shrine. 

Or  on  the  torch-enlighten'd  shore,  920 

Or,  Ceres  !  where  thy  priests  their  rites  divine 
Perform,  with  lips  in  solemn  silence  seal'd. 
And  mysteries  ne'er  by  mortal  tongue  reveal'd ! 

A  NTI  STROPHE  1« 

At  yon  snowy  mountain's  feet 

Westward  perchance  the  warriors  meet;  926 

Chariot  and  horse,  with  mutual  rage, 

On  CEtiiS  flowery  plains  enjj:age. 
Around  their  Theseus  now,  a  valiant  band, 

See  Athens'  martial  sons  unite 

To  save  their  native  land.  930 

All    shake    their    glittering    spears,    and   urge   the 

fight ; 
All,  who  thy  power,  equestrian  Pallas!  own, 
Or  bow  to  Neptune,  Rhea's  honor'd  son. 

STROPHE    II. 

The  bloody  scene  shall  soon  be  o*er ; 

Creon  the  virgin  shall  restore  ;  936 

My  soul  prophetic  sees  the  maid 

For  pious  duty  thus  repaid  ; 

920  Torches  were  carried  in  the  Eleusinian  rites,  probably 
in  memory  of  those  which  Ceres  and  her  attendants  are  sup- 
posed to  have  made  use  of  in  their  search  after  Proserpine, 
These  mysteries  were  performed  by  night  in  the  most  solemn 
manner  by  the  Eumolpidae,  or  priests  of  Ceres ;  and  none 
were  admitted  to  them  but  the  pure  and  unspotted,  who  were 
bound  to  inviolable  secreey. 


(EDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT  HI. 


343 


For  ever  active  is  the  power  of  Jove, 

From  whom  perpetual  blessings  flow. 

O  '  that  I  now  could,  like  the  dove,  «*" 

Soar  th'rough  the  skies,  and  mark  the  field  below, 

The  wishM-for  conquest  joyful  to  behold, 

And  triumph  in  the  victory  I  foretold! 

ANTISTROPHE   II. 

Thou  power  supreme,  all  powers  above, 

All-seeing,  all-performing  Jove ! 

Grant  that  the  rulers  of  this  land 

May  soon  subdue  the  hostile  band ! 
Thee  too,  O  Pallas!  hunter  Phoebus  !  thee 

Do  we  invoke  ;  with  thee  be  join  d  ^^^ 

Thv  virgin  sister  deity,  ,,    ,  .•   a 

Who  loves  o'er  la«ns  to  chase  the  spotted  h.nd: 
On  you  we  call ;  your  aid  propitious  bring : 
O  !  haste,  protect  our  country  and  our  king.  lExeunt. 


ACT   III. 

ffiDIPUS,  THESEUS,   ANTIGONE,  ISMENE,  CHORUS. 

Cho.  I  'M  no  false  prophet,  stranger !  for,  behold 
Th^daughte^s     .hat  say'st thou t  WhereP  O!  wheiet 

Int    My  father!  O  my  father!  what  kind  god  956 
Katd  up'this  friend,  who  hath  restored  us  to  thee  ? 

(Em.  Are  then  my  daughters  with  ""«  ?^^^^^^^,  ^,^ 

HaTbrought  us  here  ;  to  him  and  to  his  friends 
W^owe  our  safety.  ^  ^  ^^^^  ^.^^^  ^^  ^^.,^^^^ ,  ^ 

Let  me  embrace  you ;  never  did  I  think 
Again  to  fold  you  in  these  arms.      ^^  ^^^^ 
Ant. 


344 


SOPHOCLES. 


CEDIPUS  COLONEUS. — ACT  HI. 


345 


With  joy,  my  father  ! 

CEdi.  O  !  where  are  you  ? 

Ant.  Here, 

CEdi.  My  dearest  children  ! 

Ant.  To  our  father  still 

May  every  pleasure  come  I 

(Edi.  [leaning/  on  Anti(;one,^  My  best  support!  966 

Ant.  The  wretched  bear  the  wretched. 

CEdi.  [embracing  them.^  I  have  all 

That's  precious  to  me  :  were  I  now  to  die, 
Whilst  you  are  here,  I  should  not  be  unhappy. 
Support  me,  daughters  !  to  your  father's  side 
Close  press'd  :  O  !  soothe  to  peace  a  wretched  exile. 
Long  time  deserted  :  tell  me  what  hath  happen'd  ;  971 
But  let  the  tale  be  short,  as  best  becomes 
Thj'  tender  age. 

Ant.  [pointing  to  Theseus,]  Here  is  our  great  pro- 
tector. 
He  will  inform  you ;  so  shall  what  I  speak 
Be  brief  as  thou  wouldst  have  it. 

CEdi.  Noble  Theseus  !  975 

My  children  thus  beyond  my  hopes  restored, 
If  I  should  talk  too  long  on  such  a  theme. 
Thou  wilt  not  wonder.     'Tis  to  thee  alone 
I  owe  my  joys  ;  thou  didst  protect  and  save 
My  much-loved  daughters.     May  the  gods  repay   980 
Thee  and  thy  kingdom  for  this  goodness  to  me ! 
Here  only  have  I  found  or  faith,  or  truth, 
Or  justice;  you  alone  possess  them  all  : 
I  will  attest  it,  for  I  know  it  well. 
I  feel  your  virtues  ;  what  I  have  is  all  985 

From  you.     O  king  !  permit  me  but  to  touch 
Thy  hand;  O  !  stretch  it  forth,  or  let  me  kiss 
Thy  honor'd  lips  !     But,  O  !  what  do  I  say  P 
€an  such  a  wretch  as  (Edipus  e'er  hope, 


With  guilty  hands,  to  touch  a  man  like  thee,  990 

So  pure,  so  spotless  ?  Yet  I  must  embrace  thee  : 

They  only  who  have  known  misfortunes  feel 

For  others'  griefs  with  sympathising  wo. 

Hail,  best  of  men  !  and  mayst  thou  ever  be. 

As  thou  hast  been,  my  guardian  and  my  friend !     995 

The.  Thus  happy  as  thou  must  be  in  thy  children, 
Hadst  thou  said  more,  much  more,  and  talk'd  to  them 
Rather  than  me,  it  had  not  moved  my  wonder. 
Nor  think  I  should  resent  it :  not  by  words 
Would  Theseus  be  distinguished,  but  by  deeds       1000 
Illustrious  :  this  thou  know'st ;  for  what  I  swore 
I  Ihave  perform'd,  restored  thy  daughters  to  thee. 
Safe  from  the  tyrant's  threats :  how  past  the  conflict 
Why  should  I  boast?     They  at  their  leisure  best 
May  tell  you  all :  meantime  to  what  I  heard,         1005 
As  hither  coming,  CEdipus,  attend : 
Of  little  import  seem'd  the  circumstance, 
And  yet  'twas  strange  ;  but  naught  should  mortal  man 
Deem  or  beneath  his  notice  or  his  care. 

CEdi.  What  is  it,  son  of  ^geus  ?  O  !  inform  me. 
For  nothing  have  I  heard. 

The.  a  man,  they  say,  1011 

Who  boasts  himself  by  blood  allied  to  thee, 
At  Neptune's  altar,  whilst  I  sacriliced, 
In  humblest  posture  stood. 

CEdi.  What  could  it  mean  ? 

Whence  came  he  ? 

The.  That  I  know  not ;  this  alone      1015 

They  told  me     suppliant  he  requested  much 
To  talk  awhile  with  thee. 

(Edi.  With  me  ?    'Tis  strange, 

And  yet,  methinks,  important. 

The.  He  desired 

But  to  converse  with  thee,  and  then  depart.         1019 


346 


SOPHOCLES. 


OiDIPUS   COLONEUS.— ACT   III. 


CEdi.  Who  can  it  be 


The. 
None  of  thy  kindred 
CEdi.  No  more,  my 


The. 

CEdi. 

The.  Ask  what- 


CEdi.  I 

Who  's  at  the  altar. 

The 
(Edi. 


Hast  thou  no  friend  at  Argos  ? 
there,  wlio  wishM  to  see  thee  ? 
friend  ! 

What  say'st  thou  ? 

Do  not  ask  me. 

know  him  now  ;  I  know  too  well 


Who  is  it? 

That  hateful  son,  whose  voice  I  loathe  to  hear.      1025 
The.    But  why  not  hear  him?     Still  thou  mayst 
refuse 

What  he  shall  ask. 
(Edi.  I  cannot,  cannot  bear  it ; 

Do  not  oblige  me. 

The.  But  the  sacred  place 

Where  now  he  stands,  and  reverence  to  the  gods, 
Demand  it  of  thee. 

Ant.  Let  me,  O  my  father !  1030 

Young  as  I'am,  admonish  thee.    O  !  grant 
Thy  friend  his  just  request;  obey  the  gods, 
And  let  our  brother  come  ;  whate'er  he  says. 
It  need  not  draw  thee  from  thy  first  resolve. 
What  harm  to  hear  him  P    Words  have  o"  Produced 
The  noblest  works  :  remember,  'tis  thy  child  :        lUdb 
Thou  didst  beget  him;  though  he  were  the  worst 
Of  sons  to  thee,  yet  would  it  ill  become 
A  father  to  return  it.     Let  him  come. 
Others,  like  thee,  have  base,  unworthy  children,  1040 
And  yet  their  minds  are  softenMto  forgiveness 
By  friends'  advice,  and  all  their  wrath  subdued, 
Think  on  thy  own  unhappy  parent's  fate  ; 
Thence  mayst  thou  learn  what  dreadful  ills  have  flow  d 


347 

1045 


From  anger's  bitter  fountain.    Thou,  alas ! 

Art  a  sad  proof;  those  sightless  eyes  too  well 

Bear  witness  to  it :  those,  who  only  ask 

What  justice  warrants,  should  not  ask  in  vain  ; 

Nor  who  receives  a  benefit,  forget 

The  hand  that  gave,  but  study  to  repay  it.  1050 

CEdi.  You  have  o'ercome  me  :  with  reluctant  plea- 
sure 
I  yield  :  my  children  !  be  it  as  you  please  : 
But  if  he  comes,  O  Theseus !  guard  my  life. 

The.  I  *ve  said  enough  ;  no  more  :  I  will  not  boast ; 
But  thou  art  safe,  if  Heaven  forsakes  not  me.        1055 

CHORUS. 
STROPHE. 

In  sacred  wisdom's  path  is  seldom  seen 

The  wretch,  whom  sordid  love  of  wealth  inspires  ; 
Neglectful  of  the  happy  golden  mean, 

His  soul  nor  truth  nor  heavenly  knowlege  fires. 
No  length  of  days  to  him  can  pleasure  bring  ;        1060 

In  death  alone  he  finds  repose, 

End  of  his  wishes  and  his  woes, 

In  that  uncomfortable  night, 

Where  never  music's  charms  delight, 
Nor  virgin  choirs  their  hymeneals  sing.  1065 

ANTISTROPHE. 

The  happiest  fate  of  man  is  not  to  be  ; 

And  next  in  bliss  is  he,  who,  soon  as  born, 
From  the  vain  world  and  all  its  sorrows  free, 

Shall  whence  he  came  with  speediest  foot  return  : 
For  youth  is  full  of  folly,  toils,  and  wo,  1070 

Of  war,  sedition,  pain,  and  strife, 

With  all  the  busy  ills  of  life  ; 

Till  helpless  age  comes  creeping  on. 

Deserted,  friendless,  and  alone. 
Which  neither  power,  nor  joy,  nor  pleasure  knows. 


348 


SOPHOCLES. 


1076 


EPODE. 

The  hapless  CEdipas,  like  me, 
Is  doom'd  to  age  and  misery  : 
Ev'n  as  around  the  northern  shore 
The  bleak  winds  howl,  and  tempests  roar, 
Contending  storms  in  terror  meet,  1080 

And  dashing  waves  for  ever  beat ; 
Thus  is  the  wretched  king  with  grief  oppress'd, 
And  woes  on  woes  afflict  his  long-distemper'd  breast. 

l^Exeunt. 

ACT  IV. 

CEDIPUS,   ANTIGONE,    ISMENE,    CHORUS. 

Ant.  This  way,  my  father!  Lo  !  the  wretched  man 
Approaches,  unattended  and  in  tears.  1085 

(Edi.  Who  comes,  my  child  ? 
AjyjT,  Ev'n  he  I  told  thee  of, 

Poor  Polynices ! 

Enter  Polynices. 
Pol.  O  my  sisters  !  see 

Of  all  mankind  the  most  unhappy.     Where 
Shall  I  begin  ?    Shall  I  lament  my  own, 
Or  shall  I  weep  an  aged  parent's  fate  ?  1090 

For,  O  !  'tis  horrible  to  find  him  thus 
A  wandering  exile  in  a  foreign  land ; 
In  this  mean  garb,  with  wild  dishevell'd  hair. 
Bereft  of  sight,  and  destitue,  perhaps. 
Of  needful  food  and  nourishment.     Alas  !  1095 

Too  late  I  know  it,  worthless  as  I  am ; 
I  flew  to  succor  him,  to  plead  my  cause. 
That  not  from  others  he  might  hear  the  tale 
Of  my  misfortunes :  sacred  Pity  sits 
Fast  by  the  throne  of  Jove,  o'er  all  his  works  1100 

Presiding  gracious  :  O  !  let  her  inspire 
Thy  breast,  my  father !    Crimes  already  done, 


(EDIPUS    COLONEUS. — ACT   IV. 


349 


Which  cannot  be  recall'd,  may  still  be  heal'd 

By  kind  forgiveness  ;  why  then  art  thou  silent? 

O  !  speak,  my  father !  do  not  turn  aside  :  1105 

Wilt  thou  not  answer?     Wilt  thou  let  me  go 

Without  one  word,  nor  tell  me  whence  thy  wrath 

Contemptuous  springs  ?     My  sisters  !  you  at  least 

Will  try  to  move  his  unrelenting  heart, 

And  loosen  his  closed  lips;  that  not  thus  spurn'd  1110 

And  thus  unanswer'd,  though  a  suppliant  here 

At  Neptune's  altar,  I  return  with  shame 

And  foul  disgrace. 

Ant.  Say,  wherefore  didst  thou  come  ? 

My  hapless  brother!  tell  thy  mournful  tale  : 
Such  is  the  power  of  words,  that  whether  sweet     1115 
They  move  soft  pity,  or  when  bitter  urge 
To  violence  and  wrath,  at  least  they  ope 
The  unwilling  lips,  and  make  the  silent  speak. 

Pol.  'Tis  well  advised,  and  I  will  tell  thee  all. 

0  !  may  that  deity  propitious  smile,  1120 
Whose  altar  late  I  left,  whence  Theseus  raised 

This  wretched  suppliant,  and  in  converse  free 
Mix'd  gracious  with  me !     May  I  hope  from  you 
The  like  benevolence  ?    And  now,  my  father  ! 

1  'II  tell  thee  wherefore  Polynices  came.  1125 
Thou  seest  me  banish'd  from  my  native  land. 
Unjustly  banish'd,  for  no  other  crime. 

But  that  I  strove  to  keep  the  throne  of  Thebes, 

By  birthright  mine,  from  him,  who  drove  me  thence, 

The  young  Eteocles  :  not  his  the  claim  1130 

By  justice,  nor  to  me  his  fame  in  arms 

Superior  ;  but  by  soft  persuasive  arts 

He  won  the  rebel  city  to  his  love. 

Thy  curse,  my  father,  was  the  cause  of  all, 

I  know  it  was ;  for  so  the  priests  declared  1 135 

In  oracles  divine  :  to  Argos  then 


m\ 


350 


SOPHOCLES. 


1140 


1145 


1160 


I  came,  and,  to  Adraslus*  daughter  join'd 

In  marriage,  gain'd  the  Argive  chiefs,  renown'd 

For  martial  deeds.    Seven  valiant  leaders  march 

To  Thebes,  resolved  to  conquer  or  to  die. 

Therefore  to  thee,  my  father  !  came  I  here, 

To  beg  thy  aid  for  me  and  these  my  friends. 

Companions  of  the  war,  who  threatens  Thebes 

With  their  united  powers,  in  order  thus  : 

The  wise  and  brave  Amphiaraus,  or  skill'd 

To  cast  the  spear,  or  with  prophetic  tongue 

Disclose  the  will  of  Heaven,  with  CEneus'  son, 

^tolian  Tydeus,  and  Eteocles, 

At  Argos  born  ;  to  these,  Hippomedon, 

Sent  by  Talaus,  his  renowned  sire. 

Bold  Capaneus,  who  threatens  soon  to  raze 

The  walls  of  mighty  Thebes  :  to  close  the  train, 

Parthenopsian  Areas  comes,  the  son 

Of  Atalantis,  from  her  virgin  name 

So  call'd  :  with  these,  thy  hapless  son  (the  child  1155 

Of  dire  misfortune  rather)  leads  his  force 

From  Argos  to  rebellious  Thebes  :  for  these. 

And  for  their  children,  for  the  lives  of  all. 

Suppliant  to  thee  we  come,  in  humble  prayer, 

To  deprecate  thy  wrath  against  a  wretch,  1 160 

Who,  injured  much,  but  seeks  the  vengeance  due 

To  a  base  brother,  whose  oppressive  hand 

Hath  drove  me  from  my  country  and  my  throne. 

If  there  be  truth  in  what  the  gods  declare, 

On  him  shall  victory  smile,  for  whom  thy  vows 

Shall  rise  propitious  ;  therefore,  by  our  gods 

And  native  fountains,  O  !  remit  thy  anger, 

And  smile  upon  me,  on  a  banish'd  man, 

A  beggar  like  thyself,  who  lives,  like  thee, 

By  others'  bounty  :  in  one  common  fate 

We  are  united,  whilst  the  tyrant  sits 


CEDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT   IV. 


351 


1165 


1170 


1175 


In  ease  at  home,  and  laughs  our  woes  to  scorn. 
Yet  if  thou  wouldst  but  listen  to  my  vows, 
Soon  might  I  cast  him  forth,  restore  thee  soon 
To  thy  dear  native  land,  and  seat  myself 
In  my  own  kingdom.     Thy  assent,  my  father ! 
Is  all  I  ask  ;  but,  O  !  without  thy  aid 
I  have  no  hope  of  safety  or  revenge. 
Cho.  For  Theseus'  sake,  O  !  give  him  answer  now, 

And  let  him  go. 
(Edi.  But  that  the  noble  Theseus,      1180 

Who  hither  brought  him,  did  request  it  of  me. 
He  ne'er  had  heard  the  voice  of  CEdipus  ; 
And  little  pleasure  will  it  now  bestow. 
Un^-rateful  wretch  !  who,  when  the  throne  of  Thebes, 
°•^.  [turning  to  Polynices- 

Where  now  thy  brother  sits,  was  thine,  didst  drive 
Thy  father  hence,  to  penury  and  wo ;  1186 

Now,  when  thou  seest  me  in  this  mean  attire. 
Thou  weep'st  my  fate,  because  'tis  like  thy  own. 
But  I  '11  not  weep,  for  I  can  bear  it  all, 
Still,  wicked  parricide  !  remembering  thee,  1190 

The  cruel  cause  of  all ;  thou  madest  me  thus 
On  others'  bounty  to  rely  for  food 
And  nourishment :  for  ti»ee,  I  might  have  perish'd  ; 
But  these  my  pious  daughters,  these  alone, 
Beyond  their  sex's  power,  with  manly  aid  1195 

Have  cherish'd  and  protected  me  :  for  you. 
Who  call  yourselves  my  sons,  ye  are  not  mine : 
I  know  you  not.  Though  heaven  hath  spared  you  long. 
Death  will  o'ertake  you  ;  when  thy  forces  come 
To  Thebes,  which  shall  not  fall  before  thy  arms,  1200 
There  soon  shalt  thou  and  thy  vile  brother  die. 
Long  since  my  curses  did  declare  thy  fate. 
Which  here  I  do  repeat,  that  you  may  learn 
The  reverence  due  to  parents,  and  no  more 


OEDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT   IV, 


353 


352 


SOPHOCLES. 


1205 


1220 


Reproach  a  sightless  father.    Look  on  these 

My  duteous  daughters  :  did  they  act  like  you  ? 

They  never  did ;  and  therefore  to  the  throne, 

Which  you  have  forfeited,  shall  they  succeed. 

If  Justice  still,  as  she  is  ever  wont, 

Sits  at  the  hand  of  Jove  :  meantime,  thou  worst,  1210 

Thou  most  abandon'd  of  the  race  of  men  ! 

Begone  !  away  !  and  with  thee  bear  this  curse, 

Which  here  I  do  pronounce :  to  Argos  ne'er 

Mayst  thou  return  !  never  may  Thebes  be  thine  ! 

Soon  mayst  thou  perish  by  a  brother's  hand,         1215 

Slaying  the  slayer !     May  dark  Erebus 

Receive  them  both  !     And  now  on  you  I  call, 

Ye  goddesses  revered  !  and  thou,  O  Mars  ! 

Thou,  who  hast  raised  the  bitter  strife  between 

My  impious  sons,  bear  witness  to  my  words ! 

Farewell :  now  go,  and  tell  the  Thebans,  tell 

Thy  faithful  friends,  how  fair  an  heritage 

Your  (Edipus  hath  here  bequeathed  his  children. 

Cho.  O  Polynices!  little  is  the  joy 
Which  we  can  give  thee  of  this  fatal  journey  ; 
Therefore  away,  and  leave  us. 

Pol.  a  sad  path 

These  steps  have  trod  indeed,  of  wo  to  me 
And  to  my  friends.     Was  it  for  this,  alas  ! 
I  came  from  Argos  ?  I  can  never  tell 
My  mournful  story  there,  never  return. 
O  !  I  must  bury  it  in  silence  all. 
My  sisters  !  ye  have  heard  the  dreadful  curse 
Which  he  pronounced.     O  !  if  it  be  fulfiU'd, 
And  some  kind  hand  restore  you  back  to  Thebes, 
At  least  remember  me  ;  at  least  perform  1235 

The  funeral  rites,  and  hide  me  in  the  tomb  : 
So  shall  your  names,  for  pious  tenderness 
To  an  unhappy  father  long  revered, 


1225 


1230 


With  added  praises  crown'd,  exalted  shine, 

For  this  kind  office  to  a  brother's  shade.  1240 

Ant.  O  Polynices  !  let  me  beg  thee,  hear 
Thy  sister  now. 

Pol.  My  dear  Antigone  ! 

What  say'st  thou  ? 

Ant.  Lead  thy  armies  back  to  Argos, 

Nor  thus  destroy  thy  country  and  thyself. 

Pol.  It  cannot  be  ;  my  forces,  once  dismiss'd,  1245 
Through  fear,  what  power  shall  ever  reunite  them? 

Ant.   But  wherefore  all  this  rage  ?  What  canst  thou 
hope 
Of  fame  or  profit  by  the  fall  of  Thebes? 

Pol.  'Tit  base  to  fly,  and,  eldest  born  as  I  am, 
To  be  the  laughter  of  a  younger  brother.  1250 

Ant.  Dost  thou  not  dread  the  oracles  pronounced 
Against  you  both,  death  by  each  other's  hand  ? 

Pol.  I  know  the  sentence,  but  we  must  go  on. 

Ant.  Alas  !  and  who  shall  dare  to  follow  thee, 
After  this  dire  prediction  ? 

Pol.  None  shall  know  it.     1255 

The  prudent  general  tells  the  good  alone, 
And  keeps  the  threaten'd  ill  unknown  to  all. 

Ant.  Art  thou  determined  then,  and  wilt  thou  go  ? 

Pol.  Do  not  dissuade  me,  for  the  task  is  mine  ; 
And  though  a  father's  fatal  curse  attend  me,         1260 
Though  vengeful  Furies  shall  await  my  steps. 
Yet  I  must  go.     May  Jove  indulgent  smile 
On  you,  my  sisters!  if,  when  I  am  dead, 
(As  soon  I  shall  be)  to  my  breathless  corpse 
You  pay  due  honors  !  Now  farewell  for  ever, 
For  living  ye  shall  ne'er  again  behold  me. 

Ant.  Alas,  my  brother ! 

Pol.  Do  not  weep  for  me. 

Ant.  Who  would  not  weep  to  see  thee  rushing  thus 
SOPH.  ^ 


1265 


\ 


354 


SOPHOCLES. 


CEDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT   IV. 


Ask  me  not  to  do       1270 
Losing  thee, 
To  the  gods 

1275 


On  certain  death  ? 
Pol.  If  I  must  die,  I  must. 

Ant.  Yet  be  persuaded. 
Pol. 
A  deed  unworthy  of  me. 

Ant. 
1  shall  be  most  unhappy. 

Pol. 
Alone  belong  the  fate  of  mortals  ;  some 
Are  bom  to  happiness,  and  some  to  wo. 
You  may  they  guard  from  every  ill,  for  sure 
Ye  merit  all  the  good  they  can  bestow. 

[Ejit  Polynias, 
Cho.    Fresh     sorrows  hath   this   hapless   stranger 
brought 
On  me  and  all  ;  but  so  hath  Heaven  decreed, 
Which  nothing  doth  in  vain  ;  whilst  time  beholds 
And  orders  all,  intlicting  wo  on  wo :  1280 

But,  hark  !  the  thunder  roars  :  almighty  Jove  ! 

CEdi.  My  daughters!     O  my  daughters!  who  will 

bring 
The  noble  Theseus  here,  that  best  of  men  ? 
Ant.   Wherefore,  my  father!   should  we  call  hum 

hither?  ^'^^^ 

CEdi.  This  winged  lightning  from  the  arm  of  Jove 
Must  bear  me  to  the  shades  below.  Where 's  Theseus  ? 
Let  him  be  sent  for  instantly. 

Cho.  Again ! 

Another  dreadful  clap !     It  strikes  my  soul 
With  horror,  and  my  hairs  do  stand  on  end 
With  fear.     Behold,  again  the  lightnings  Hash  !    1290 
I  dread  the  consequence,  for  not  in  vain 
These  signs  appear,  of  some  calamity 
Portentous  ever.    O,  ethereal  Jove ! 

CEdi.  Alas,  my  children !   naught  can  save  me  now  ; 


355 


1295 


The  fatal  hour  of  my  departure  hence 
Draws  nigh. 

Ant.  Why  think'st  thou  so  ? 

CEdf.  I  know  it  well : 

Send  for  the  king  immediately. 

Cho.  Alas ! 

The  thunder  rolls  on  every  side.     Good  Heaven 
Protect  us  !  If  to  this  devoted  land 
It  bodes  destruction,  let  not  ruin  fall  1300 

On  me !  O,  let  not  that  be  our  reward 
For  pitying  thus  a  poor,  deserted  stranger ! 
O  Jove  1  on  thee  we  call :  protect  and  save  us  ! 

CEdi.  Is  Theseus  come  ?  Shall  he  once  more  behold 


me. 


1305 


Whilst  yet  I  live,  and  keep  my  perfect  mind  ? 

Cho.  What  secret  hast  thou  to  reveal  to  him? 

OEdi.  I  owe  him  much,  and  would  repay  his  good- 
ness, 
Ev'n  as  I  promised  him. 

Cho.  O,  haste,  my  son  ! 

At  Neptune's  altar  leave  the  sacrifice, 
And  hither  fly  ;  for  CEdipus,  to  thee  1310 

And  to  thy  country  grateful,  waits  to  pay 
Thy  bounties  :  haste,  O  Theseus  !  to  receive  them. 

Enter  Theseus. 

The.  Again  this  noise,  this  wild  astonishment, 
Amongst  you  all  ?  Was  CEdipus  the  cause, 
Or  did  the  bolt  of  Jove,  and  rushing  hail,  1315 

Affright  you  ?  When  the  god  in  raging  storms 
Descends  thus  dreadful,  we  have  cause  to  fear. 

CEdi.  O  king !  thou  corned  in  happy  hour^   some 
god 
Propitious  led  thee  hither. 

The.  Son  of  Laius ! 


7 


3G6 


SOPHOCLES. 


(EDIPUS   COLONEUS. — ACT   IV. 


367 


What  new  event  hath  happened  1 

CEdt.  Know,  my  life    1320 

At  length  is  verging  to  its  latest  hour. 
I  wish  to  die  ;  but  first  my  vows  to  thee 
And  to  this  city  faithful  must  perform. 

The.  But  who  hath  told  thee  thou  so  soon  shalt  die  ? 

(Edi.  The  gods  themselves,  who  never  utter  false- 
hood. 1326 
By  signs  infallible  have  warn'd  me  of  it. 

The.   How  spake  they  to  thee  ? 

CEdi.  In  repeated  thunder 

And  lightning,  from  the  all-powerful  band  of  Jove. 

The.  I  do  believe  thee,  for  thy  prophecies 
Were  never  false  :  but  say,  what  must  be  done  ?  1330 

(Edi.  O  son  of  ^geus!   I  will  tell  thee  all 
The  bliss  reserved  for  thee  in  thy  age  ; 
For  thee,  and  for  thy  country  :  I  must  go 
To  my  appointed  place,  and  there  shall  die. 
I  go  without  a  guide,  nor  must  thou  tell  1335 

To  mortal  ear  where  CEdipus  doth  lie, 
For  ever  hid.     O  king!  that  sacred  place 
Shall  be  thy  sure  defence,  and  better  far 
Than  many  a  shield,  or  all  the  social  aid 
Of  firm  alliance  in  the  field  of  war  :  1340 

What  more  remains,  unutterable  now. 
Of  higher  import,  thither  when  thou  comest, 
To  thee  alone  shall  be  deliver'd  ;  naught 
Shall  I  reveal,  or  to  the  citizens. 
Or  ev'n  to  these,  beloved  as  they  are,  1346 

My  pious  daughters.    Thou  must  ever  keep 
The  solemn  secret ;  only,.when  thy  life 
Draws  near  its  end,  disclose  it  to  thy  son, 
Heir  of  thy  kingdom,  and  to  him  alone  : 
From  king  to  king  thus  shall  the  tale  devolve,      1350 
And  thus  thy  Athens  be  for  ever  safe 


Prom  Theban  force :  even  the  best  of  cities, 

Where  justice  rules,  may  swerve  from  virtue's  laws, 

And  be  oppressive ;  but  the  gods,  though  late, 

Will  one  day  punish  all  who  disobey  1356 

Their  sacred  mandates  :  therefore,  son  of  ^geus  ! 

Be  careful,  and  be  just ;  but  this  to  thee 

I  need  not  say.    Quick,  let  us  to  the  place, 

For  so  the  gods  decree  :  there  must  I  go. 

Thence  never  to  return.     Come  then,  my  daughters  ! 

Long  have  ye  been  my  pious  guides  ;  henceforth  1361 

I  must  be  yours  ;  follow,  but  touch  me  not. 

Let  me  find  out  the  tomb  where  1  must  hide 

My  poor  remains  ;  that  way  my  journey  lies. 

[pointing  with  his  hand. 
Away  !  Thou  god  of  shades,  great  Mercury,  1366 

And  Proserpine,  infernal  powers,  conduct  me! 
O  sightless  eyes  !  where  are  ye  ?     Never  more 
Shall  these  hands  touch  your  unavailing  orbs. 
O  light  and  life  !  farewell :  at  length  I  go 
To  hide  me  in  the  tomb ;  but,  O  !  for  thee,  1370 

My  best  beloved  friend  !  and  this  fair  land. 
And  these  thy  subjects  ;— may  prosperity 
Attend  you  still;  and  may  you  sometimes  deign, 
Amidst  your  bliss,  to  think  on  (Edipus!  \.Ej:eunt. 


CHORUS. 

Goddess  invisible  !  on  thee  we  call. 
If  thee  we  may  invoke,  Proserpina  !  and  thee. 
Great  Pluto,  king  of  shades  !  O  grant. 

That  not,  oppress'd  by  torturing  pain, 
Beneath  the  stroke  of  death  he  linger  long ; 
But  swift,  with  easy  steps,  descend 

To  Styx's  drear  abode  ; 
For  he  hath  led  a  life  of  toil  and  pain. 
May  the  just  gods  repay  his  undeserved  wo  ! 


1376 


1380 


7 


358 


SOPHOCLES. 


CEDIPUS    COLONEUS. — ACT    V. 


359 


Ye  goddesses  revered  !  who  dwell 
Beneath  the  earth  deep  hid  ;  and  thou,  1385 

Who,  barking  from  the  gloomy  cave, 
Unconqucr'd  Cerberus !  guard*st  the  ghosts  below  ; 

On  thee,  O  son  of  Tartarus  !  we  call, 

For  thou  art  ever  wakeful :  lead,  O  !  lead 

To  thy  dark  mansions  this  unhappy  stranger.  1390 

[^Exeunt. 

ACT    V. 

MESSENGER,   CHORUS. 

Mes.  O  CITIZENS  !  I  come  to  tell  a  tale — 
But  to  be  brief,  know,  CEdipus  is  dead. 
To  speak  the  manner  and  strange  circumstance 
Of  his  departure,  will  require  more  words, 
And  calls  for  your  attention. 

Cho.  Is  he  gone  ?  13^5 

Unhappy  man ! 

Mes.  For  ever  hath  he  left 

The  path  of  life. 

Cho.  How  died  he  ?    By  the  hand 

Of  Heaven  dismiss*d,  without  disease  or  pain  ?] 

Mes.  O  !  'twas  a  scene  of  wonder  :  how  he  left 
This  place,  and,  self-conducted,  led  us  on,  1400 

Blind  as  he  was,  ye  all  remember  well. 
Soon  as  he  came  to  where  the  craggy  steep. 
With  brazen  steps,  leads  to  the  hollow  gulf. 
Where  various  paths  unite,  a  place  renown'd 
For  the  famed  league  of  Theseus  and  his  friend,  1405 
Between  Acherdus  and  the  Thracian  rock, 
On  a  sepulchral  stone  he  sat  him  down  ; 
PuU'd  off  the  filthy  weeds  he  long  had  worn. 
And  bade  his  daughters  instantly  prepare 
The  bath  and  splendid  garb  :  with  hasty  steps      1410 


To  Ceres'  neighboring  altar  they  repair 

Obedient,  bring  the  vessel,  and  the  robe 

Funereal.    All  things  done,  as  custom  bids 

For  dying  men,  sudden  a  dreadful  clap 

Of  thunder  shook  the  ground  :  the  virgins  trembled. 

And  clinging  fearful  round  their  father's  knees,     1416 

Beat  their  sad  breasts,  and  wept.    Soon  as  he  heard 

The  sound  portentous,  he  embraced  his  daughters  ; 

*  Children  !*  he  cried  '  your  father  is  no  more ; 

No  longer  shall  you  lead  a  life  of  pain,  1420 

No  longer  toil  for  GEdipus.    Alas  ! 

'Twas  dreadful  to  you  ;  but  this  day,  my  children! 

Shall  end  your  sorrows  and  my  life  together. 

Never  did  father  love  his  daughters  more 

Than  I  have  loved,  but  henceforth  you  must  live  1425 

Without  your  CEdipus  :  farewell  for  ever!' 

He  spake,  and  long,  in  sad  embraces  joined, 

They  wept  aloud :  at  length  did  clamorous  grief 

To  silent  sorrow  yield,  and  all  was  still ; 

When  suddenly  we  heard  a  voice,  that  oft 

Repeated,  *  GEdipus  !  why  this  delay? 

Where  art  thou  (Edipus  ?'   The  wretched  king. 

Attentive  to  the  call  of  Heaven,  desired 

That  Theseus  might  be  sent  for  :  Theseus  came  ; 

When  thus  the  dying  exile :— *  O  my  friend  ! 

Give  me  thy  hand  :  my  daughters  !  give  him  yours  : 

Let  this  my  dearest  Theseus !  be  the  pledge 

Of  amity  between  you  ;  promise  here 

That  you  will  ne'er  forsake  my  hapless  children, 

But  henceforth  cherish,  comfort,  and  protect  them.' 

The  generous  king,  in  pity  to  their  woes,  1441 

Vow'd  to  perform  what  (Edipus  desired. 

The  father  threw  his  feeble  arms  around 

His  weeping  children  :— *  You'  he  cried,  '  must  learn 

To  bear  your  sufferings  with  an  equal  mind,  1445 

And  leave  this  place,  for  not  to  mortal  eye 


1430 


1435 


/ 


360 


SOPHOCLES. 


tEDlPUS   COLONEl'S. — ACT   V. 


381 


Is  given  to  see  my  future  fate :  a^ay.         . 

Theseus  alone  must  stay,  and  f^*  '*  »"• 

This  did  we  hear  him  utter,  »' '^f^f  ""^ft  hi„,  USO 

Attentive ;  when  his  ''"t^o-f^f  "^^  foflow'd  them. 

And  went  their  way  :  *e  *^P''  «"^  '°"° . 

Soon  we  return'd,  but  ^^'Pf.  ^  ^f^""  "      . 

The  king  alone  remaining,  as  if  strucK 

A  little  after  we  beheld  him  bend 

In  humble  adoration  to  the  earth, 

And  then  to  Heaven  prefer  his  ardent  prayer. 

nt  the  poor  exile  Vcr^sT^'^r.^JZe  "60 

But  Theseus :  nor  tlje  fie7,^!^'»,°^'°;*„t  from  Hea- 
Uestroy'd,  nor  sea  o'erwhelm  d  him  ,  duv 

Some  Tssenger  divine  did  snateh  him  hence, 
Or  power  infernal  bade  the  pitying  earth 
Open  her  peaceful  bosom  to  "ce.ve  him 
Without  a  groan,  disease,  or  P«'°.  ^^/^    * 
'Twas  wondrous  all :  to  those  who  "MoX 
This  strange  report,  I  answer,  'tis  most  true. 
Cho.  Where  are  his  daughters,  with  thew  weeping 
friends 

Who  follow'd  them ?  . ,..  r,,  „(r . 

Mes  They  cannot  be  far  off. 

ThTvoice  of  grief  I  hear  proclaims  them  nigh.     1470 

£„««•  ANTIGONE,  isiiENF,triM  Attendants. 

A«T   Alas !  the  time  is  come,  when  we  must  weep 
Our  father's  fate,  the  fate  of  all  his  race, 
Long  since  unhappy  :  various  «  ere   he  toils. 
The  labors  we  endured ;  but  this  is  far,  ^^^^ 

Far  above  all,  unutterable  wo. 

Cho.  What  is  it?      ^  ^  .^  ^^^^^^  ^^  conceived. 

Ant. 


1485 


1490 


Cho.  Is  he  then  dead  ? 

A.JJX.  He  is :  his  death  was  strange 

Lnd  wonderful ;  for  not  in  war  he  fell. 
Tor  did  the  sea  o'erwhelm  him,  but  the  earth 
lath  hid  him  from  us  :  deadly  night  hath  closed  1480 
>ur  eyes  in  sadness.    Whether  o'er  the  seas 
/e  roam,  or  exiles  in  a  foreign  land 
jead  our  sad  days,  we  must  be  still  unhappy. 
Jas  !  I  only  wish  I  might  have  died 
1th  my  poor  father:  wherefore  should  I  ask 
i'or  longer  life  ? 

Cho.  Ye  good  and  pious  daughters ! 

_lemember,  what  the  will  of  Heaven  decrees, 
Iwith  patience  we  must  bear  :  indulge  not,  then, 
[Excess  of  grief ;  your  fate  hath  not  deserved  it. 

Ant.  O  !  I  was  fond  of  misery  with  him  : 
Jv'n  what  was  most  unlovely  grew  beloved, 
Iwhen  he  was  with  me.     O  my  dearest  father ! 
JBeneath  the  earth  now  in  deep  darkness  hid, 
(Worn  as  thou  wert  with  age,  to  me  thou  still 
|Wert  dear,  and  shalt  be  ever. 

Cho.  Now  his  course 

[Is  finished. 

Ant.  Even  as  he  wishM,  he  died 

In  a  strange  land,  for  such  was  his  desire ; 
A  shady  turf  cover'd  his  lifeless  limbs : 
Nor  unlamented  fell ;  for,  O !  these  eyes, 
My  father !  still  shall  weep  for  thee,  nor  time 
E'er  blot  thee  from  my  memory. 

Ism.  Alas, 

1  Alas,  my  sister !  what  must  be  our  fate, 
Forlorn  and  helpless,  of  our  father  thus 
[Bereft? 

Cho.  His  end  was  happy ;  therefore  cease 

I  Your  fruitless  tears  :  from  sorrow  none  is  free.      1505 
soph,  _  2  a 


1495 


1500 


362 


SOPHOCLES. 


(EDIPUS    COLONEUS. — ACT    V. 


363 


Ant.  Let  us  begone. 

Ism.  But  where? 

Ant  ^  ^'^^^ 

Ism. 

Ant.  To  see  the  tomb. 

Ism  Whose  tomb  ? 

j^^^  Our  father's.    O  ! 

IsM.'  But  is  it  lawful  ?  Know'st  thou  that  ? 
ANT.  Why  thus 

Reprove  me,  my  Ismene  ? 
Ism.  He>  yet 

Unburied,  and  without 

ji^^j^  O !  lead  me  there,     1510 

Then  kill  me  if  thou  wilt ;  for  where,  alas  ! 

Can  I  betake  me. 

Cho.  Friends  !  be  comforted. 

Ant.  Where  shall  I  fly  ?  ,    ,  j 

Cho^  Thou  hast  already  scaped 

TJnnumber'd  ills. 

Ant.  I'm  thinking,  my  Ismene ! 

IsM.'  What  think'st  thou  ? 

Ant  How  we  shall  get  home. 

Cho!  r  No  more; 

Thou  hast  been  long  familiar  with  affliction.  1 516 

Ant.  My  life  hath  ever  been  a  life  of  pain 
And  sorrow,  but  this  far  exceeds  them  all. 

Cho.  The  storm  beats  hard  upon  you. 

ANT.  ^  •  ^^  ^^^^• 

Cho.  I  know  it  must. 

Ant.  O  !  whither  shall  we  fly  ?     li>20 

Great  Jove  !  what  hope  remains  ? 

qhq  Suppress  your  gritjfs  ; 

We    should    not    weep    for    those    who    wish'd    to 

die,  4,  •     t 

And  meet  their  fate  with  pleasure ;  'tis  not  just 


1530 


Nor  lawful  to  lament  them. 

[Ejceunt  Messenger  and  Attendants. 

Enter  Theseus. 

Ant.  Son  of  iEgeus  ! 

Suppliant  to  thee  we  come. 

The.  What  would  ye  of  me  ? 

Ant.  Permit  us  but  to  see  our  father's  tomb.     1526 

The.  It  is  not  lawful. 

Ant.  O  !  what  say'st  thou,  king  ? 

The.  Know,  pious  virgins !  GEdipus  himself 
Forbada  that  any  should  approach  his  tomb  : 
That  sacred  spot  which  he  possesses  there 
No  mortal  must  profane  :  to  me,  he  said, 
If  careful  I  performed  his  last  command. 
Should  joy  and  safety  come,  with  victory 
And  peace  to  Athens :  this  your  gods  did  hear 
Confirmed  by  the  sacred  oath  of  Jove. 

Ant.  If  such  our  father's  will,  we  must  submit : 
But,  O  !  permit  us  to  revisit  Thebes, 
That  so  we  may  prevent  the  impending  fate 
Of  our  dear  brothers. 

The.  All  that  you  request. 

Or  may  be  grateful  to  that  honor'd  shade, 
Whose  memory  we  revere,  I  freely  grant ; 
For  I  must  not  be  weary  of  my  task. 

Cho.  Remember,  virgins!   to  repress  your  sorrows. 
And  cease  your  fruitless  grief;  for  know,  'tis  all 
Decreed  by  fate,  and  all  the  work  of  Heaven.       1545 


end   of  SOPHOCLES. 


1535 


1540 


H 


¥•> 


^L* 


